


Imperfect Control

by Pirateweasel



Series: Grid Myths and Stories [5]
Category: Tron - All Media Types
Genre: Circuit Sex, Nightmares, Pre-Legacy AU, Use of restraints, life is messier than movies, non-consensual drug-use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-19
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-16 07:35:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 19
Words: 89,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1337269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pirateweasel/pseuds/Pirateweasel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something new is found on the Grid.  No matter what he does, though, CLU can only keep imperfect control of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I'm Just Here For a Visit

**Author's Note:**

> I was asked more than once, "How did Feral end up on the Grid, anyway?" Reasonable question. Here's the answer.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The following story may contain depictions or descriptions of instances of: graphic violence, torture, brainwashing, BDSM, self-harm, non-consensual sexual situations, character death, bits, and bunnies.  
> This story was written for the personal enjoyment of the author; who does not own any character copy written or owned by the Disney Corporation. This story is not written for profit. It is a complete work of fiction, and any resemblance to person or people, living or dead, is strictly coincidental.  
> The author does not claim ownership to any of the songs, musical groups, or artists referenced in the following story.
> 
> There! Disclaimers all in order...and as always, Don't Sue Me...unless you really want my hat. And honestly, wouldn't it be easier to go get you own nifty hat?
> 
> One of my beloved and awesome betas asked me today: What song is it that she's listening to...?  
> So, now adding the song list at the end chapter notes, when applicable.
> 
> 'Hey, Pretty' by Poe

             

* * *

 

* * *

 

She stood on the house's doorstep and waited for an answer to her knock.  The house itself was inviting; as if it was greeting her with the light that beamed softly down on her as she waited on the porch.  It rested a little back from the street in a well-kept yard; although by looking around she could tell that the owner of this house appeared not to worry if his was the biggest or fanciest in the neighborhood.  Like the house’s owner, what mattered most was what was inside.  It resembled most of the other houses that lined the quiet street, and she smiled to herself; wondering what the neighbors must be thinking of this particular late night visit.   A moment later, the door opened to reveal a tall, older man with graying hair and glasses.  His black polo shirt was slightly rumpled, as was his hair.  A quick smile brightened his face as he greeted her.

"Hey, what are you doing here?  I didn't think that you would get into town until tomorrow."

"Hello, Alan," she said with a smile.  "I was lucky and got into town much earlier than I expected to; traffic was with me this time, I guess.  I just wanted to stop by and let you know I was in town now; and to see if you know of a good motel in the area for the night.  I didn't have a room reserved until tomorrow night, and the hotel I was going to use is booked full tonight."

"I've got something better than that," he told her with a small grin on his face.   “If I didn’t need to have a plumber come here first thing in the morning, I would just invite you to stay here tonight.  However, I’m guessing that after your drive you would prefer the chance for a hot shower and a working toilet.”

Can you follow me to someplace else that I know of?”

“That’s not a problem,” she said with a small laugh.  “I’m sorry to hear that you’re having plumbing problems, though.”

Alan waved his hand dismissively, as if to push the thought aside as unimportant.

“It’ll be dealt with tomorrow morning; I already have the visit scheduled.  We’ll get to spend more time catching up after the plumber leaves,” he said.  “Did you take a car, or are you on your bike?”

“I took the bike this time.  Someone else from the shop is driving the stock van; so I shipped my things to the next site with them.  I planned on travelling light so that I can visit friends and sight-see until the next job starts.”

 

Twenty minutes later, a small gray sedan pulled up outside of a closed down arcade.  It was followed closely by a slight figure on a motorcycle.  A large neon sign hung dark above the door, spelling out for all to read…’Flynn’s’.      

The figure on the motorcycle dismounted and started walking towards Alan as he emerged from the driver’s seat of his car.  She removed her helmet to uncover dark auburn hair that was pinned up on her head.  The dull yellow light from a nearby streetlamp glinted off of a silver ear cuff half-hidden by her hair as she tilted her head up to read the sign better.  Hazel- green eyes met his as she spoke.

“I had no idea that you owned an arcade.  Why call it ‘Flynn’s’, though?”

Alan gave a chuckle and shook his head slightly.  “It’s not mine,” he told her.  “It actually belongs to my godson, Sam.  I’m just the care-taker for the property.”

I was planning to introduce the two of you tomorrow night at dinner.  I think that you would get along well together.”

Her brows drew together slightly.

“Get along well together?  Alan, please tell me that you aren’t trying to play matchmaker,” she asked in a faintly pained voice.  “You know how I feel about people trying to set me up with some one.”

He laughed at the look on her face.  “No, I don’t think either of you would appreciate it if I set you up with some one.  Although, you should be with somebody that makes you happy…” he said thoughtfully.  “But no, I am not trying to set you two up…with anyone, much less each other.  I really do think that the two of you would get along like a house on fire.”

She gave him a suspicious look before asking, “So...do you mean that we would get along well… or that your neighbors are likely to end up calling the fire department and police station?”

Alan threw his head back and laughed out loud at her question.  “The first one,” he said, still chuckling as he answered her.

She relaxed at his words.  “That sounds fine, then.  I tell you what; I’ll fix dinner if you get the ingredients.  We can all get to know each other better while it cooks,” she offered.

There was a speculative gleam in Alan’s eye as he asked her, “That roasted chicken, or pasta?”

She laughed at the question.       

“I’ll let you guys decide,” she told him.  “Although, I am a little surprised that you remembered.”

“Can’t help it,” he said with a rueful grin.  “The only other time I eat that well; is when its Lora’s cooking.  It’s going to be hard to decide between the two meals.”

She grinned as she spoke again.  “How about this?” she said.  “No matter what you boys decide on for the meal; I’ll cook the other dish for dinner the next night.  Your choice who will come to dinner, then.  I will say, for the record, I wouldn’t mind meeting Zack—well, you know.”

So, about this place you’ve brought me to.  An arcade?”

“Yes, and no,” Alan told her.  “Sam’s father had an apartment upstairs in the arcade.  He lived there for years before he met Sam’s mother.  He was a good friend of mine; and he kept it as sort of a home away from home even after Sam was born.”

Sam won’t mind you staying here tonight.”  He groaned slightly and said, “Except I forgot to bring clean sheets and towels.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that.  I always travel with a sleep-sak and a towel.  If there’s water and something resembling a bed, I’ll be fine.”      

“Well, if you’re sure that you will be OK, let’s get you inside and settled for the night.”  With that said Alan unlocked the door to the arcade and led her into the building.  Turning on a flashlight that he had brought with him, he turned to her and said, “I’ll be right back.  I just need to turn on the power again.”

She stood in the dark doorway, waiting for Alan to return.  Less than a minute later, his apparent efforts were rewarded by a cacophony of light and sound.  All of the lights came on at once, and a song by Journey blared from the speakers overhead of the banks of now brightly lit up video games that lined the walls.

“Sorry about the noise,” Alan said, striding back towards where she stood waiting in the doorway.  “When they turned off the power inside the arcade at the breakers, they apparently left everything on.  The switches for the downstairs lights and the sound system are upstairs in the apartment.  I’ll show them to you.  That way you can at least turn them off so you can get some sleep.”

Feel free to play any of the games here, by the way.  There’s always been a roll of quarters left upstairs for just that reason.”

A short time later, Alan left to return to his home; after having showed her where everything was located, and how to turn off anything that she did not want to leave on.  He also left her with a spare key to the arcade, so she could lock and unlock the doors.

The last thing that he had said before leaving was, “Come to the house tomorrow after you get yourself some breakfast.  We’ll spend some time visiting before Sam gets there, and can talk more.”

He had given her a small smile at that point and said, “I’m glad that you came to visit.”

 

 

* * *

 

As she locked the door after Alan left, she looked down at the roll of quarters in her hand that he had given to her earlier.  She had never really gotten into video games. She wasn’t very good at most of them; and, as a kid, had not had the money or the time to go to arcades and get any better.  But tonight, there was no one who would laugh meanly or tell her to hurry up and get off the game.  And she wasn’t broke, even without Alan’s roll of quarters.  Why not play a game or two?

She looked around the arcade at the game consoles that stood in rows and up against the walls: Pac-Man, Galaga, Centipede, Donkey Kong… and Tron.  There it was, in front of her.  She had spent a lot of time watching other people play that game as a kid; and only once ever had the chance to play it herself.  Now was the perfect time to beat her previous record…two minutes before getting killed.

Moving the plastic sheeting that covered it from the face of the machine, she reached down and dropped in a quarter.

It promptly dropped out onto the floor.

She bent down to pick it back up.  As her fingers closed on the quarter, she noticed the semi-circular grooves in the floor leading out from the base of the machine.  Grooves like you would get if you moved a heavy object over and over again in the same pattern.

“Huh,” she said to the empty room.  “What’s up here?”

She stood and grasped the sides of the game.  It moved easily away from the wall at her tug, revealing a door hidden behind it.

“What is this,” she asked aloud.  “Some sort of secret invitation to the bat cave?  Because if it is, ISOlated Thinker, I’m taking you up on it.”  She pulled the door open, discovering a dark stairwell leading into what seemed to be a basement.  She reached into the pocket of the biker jacket that she was wearing and pulled out the headphones for her MP3 player and a mini-LED flashlight.

“Might as well have exploring music to go with creeping into dark hallways with,” she muttered to herself.  “And if anyone has the idea of jumping out at me, I’ll probably clock them upside their head,” she added in a loud voice, leaning down into the stairway to do so.

Shining the light in front of her, she made her way down the stairs.  No one jumped out at her when she reached the bottom of the stairs. 

Instead, behind another door with keys still in its lock, she found a small, dust covered room.  A desk with a touch screen terminal from what looked like the 80’s stood against one wall, while bookcases filled with what she thought were various electronic equipment pieces and corkboards covered in notes took up most of the rest of the room.  She stood in the open space near the middle of the room, shining her light around the room and into the corners.  Taking a step back to get a better look at everything, she tripped when she hit the rolling desk chair with her foot.  She dropped the light as she instinctively reached out blindly, trying to catch herself and avoid a fall.  The last thing that her mind registered was her fingertips hitting the desk, followed by a bright flash of light.

What seemed like only a second later, she picked herself up of off the floor.

“Ow,” she muttered under her breath.  She looked around in surprise at what appeared to be the same dimly lit room, only bare of most of what had filled it just a moment before.

“Okay,” she said to herself.  “Obviously you hit your head harder than you thought.  You must have knocked yourself out when you dropped the light and fell.”

“And managed to knock your headphones out, as well,” she grumbled to herself, noticing the silence, where earlier she had Poe’s song ‘Pretty Baby” playing in her ears.  “Just great.  Where did everything land?”

 She knelt down, startled by the lack of dust on the floor.  After a minute or two of fruitlessly searching by touch in the near-complete darkness, she gave up hunting for her things for the moment.  Sighing, she stood up and headed back up the stairs.  She would find the flashlight that Alan had left behind earlier that night, and would find her light and headphones later.  After all, her MP3 player at least was still…not in her pocket, she realized ruefully, as her hand came out of the pocket empty.  Well, all the more reason to find that light.

At the top of the stairs, she pushed open the door and blinked in surprise.  The arcade was completely empty.  Not a single game stood in the large, empty room before her.

'What on earth is going on?' she wondered as she looked around.  The room seemed to stare back at her, strangely devoid of any color other than black and grey.  There was no way that she would not have woken up if someone had been moving everything out.  There was not even any dust.  And not Alan’s flashlight, either, she noted.

She headed out of the arcade’s front door, intending to get the spare flashlight that she kept in the saddlebags of her motorcycle.

And stopped again in shock.  Her bike was gone.  Heck, the whole street was gone.  At least, the street that she had seen when she entered the arcade was gone.  She looked up and down what should have been a street lined with older buildings, some a little run-down, and mostly empty parking lots.  Nothing looked familiar.  The buildings here, while they looked empty, were new, brightly lit, and modern looking.  The street stretched out before her; flat, black and gray with a very faint pattern to it, almost like a hex-grid in design.  In the distance, something rose up, black against the gray sky.  Well, she thought it was the sky.  Everything seemed to have changed, and she could not help but feel a little unbalanced.  She walked further down the street, trying to find some sort of even slightly familiar landmark.

A beam of light overhead caught her eye, causing her to look up.

“No way,” she breathed, staring up at what was the distinct and oddly familiar red-lit glow of a Recognizer from the Tron game that she had planned on playing.

“Okay, so you must have hit your head harder than you thought.  You’re probably lying in a pile of dust bunnies in the basement floor right now, dreaming all of this,” she said out loud to herself.  She watched as the Recognizer came closer.

“On the other hand, even if this is a dream, those things were never a good sign for you in the game; so let’s just be on our way shall we?  Or, at least get out of its path before it sees you, girl,” she said to herself, backing away from the beam of light that was moving ever closer to where she stood.

She turned to try to run back to the arcade.  With a little luck, she would be able to hide there until the Recognizer was gone.  If she was really lucky, she might even wake up before then.

Her luck had apparently ended with getting into town early.  She had only taken a few steps back towards the arcade when the searchlight found her.  She watched with a kind of fascinated horror as sections of the grid-like ‘street’ fell away; leaving her standing alone and exposed on a small, raised section of the ground.  Her lack of good luck only seemed to continue as she saw a trio of what appeared to be some sort of soldier coming towards where she stood.  They were dressed in what looked like a mix of motorcycle armor from a BMX race, and wetsuits.  Even odder were the glowing red lights that highlighted each suit.

“Another stray program,” one of them stated, approaching her.  “You will come with us.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you guys,” she stated flatly, backing away from the group at the same time. 

“You **will** come with us.... **NOW** ,” said another, apparently the leader of the group.  He motioned to the other two soldiers, and they moved to try to surround her. 

She eyed him warily as she tried to watch the other two and back even further away at the same time.  She was only able to take a few steps back before the two soldiers sent to flank her were close enough to on the small grid section to grab her by the arms.

“Let go of me!” she demanded.  The leader of the soldiers came up to where they stood, holding her in place.

“You will come with us, program,” he told her again.

She jammed her elbow into the stomach of the soldier holding her and wrenched her right arm free when his grip loosened.  She punched the leader in front of her as hard as she could in the abdomen, trying to hit him in his less protected, unarmored side.  Her efforts were rewarded with a grunt of what sounded like a pained noise from him, but were not enough to for her to get away.  Before she could pull her other arm free, the first soldier had recovered himself and caught her arm again.  The two soldiers held her between them as their leader looked back up at her.  Without another word, he punched her as hard in the face; so that only the grip on her arms of the two soldiers holding her kept her upright  ‘Okay, not a dream,’ she realized, blinking back tears.  That had _hurt._

“Get her on board,” the guards’ leader snapped at them, stalking off.  The two soldiers half-led, half-dragged her to the Recognizer where was lined up with several other people; all standing with their feet locked into some sort of restraints.  After locking her feet into the restraints as well, they left her standing there with the others.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Welcome to the Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This one is already processed...The commander has designated her for Games.”
> 
> There's a new player on the Game grid...
> 
> song list: 'Smack My B*tch Up' by Prodigy

              

* * *

 

* * *

 

The Recognizer lifted itself into the air and moved across the landscape.The land below was strangely beautiful, yet alien at the same time.

“Where are we going?  Where are they taking us?” she asked the man standing next to her in the line.

“No talking.  Talking is bad for you, here,” he said, and then fell silent, refusing to say anything more.

A while later, the Recognizer landed.  Someone in the same uniform as the soldiers earlier came up to the line of people she stood in.  As he walked up to each one, he called out a word, and that person would be led away.  Some appeared resigned, others in shock.  One started sobbing, “no, please, no…” over and over as they led him away.  As he stood in front of the man next to her; the one she had tried to talk to earlier, she heard him say, “Games.”  Now he was standing in front of her.  He looked at her and started to speak, “Re-“

“This one is already processed,” interrupted one of the soldiers from earlier.   “The commander has designated her for Games.”

“Really?  Why would he do that?” asked the official in front of her.

“She punched him and tried to evade us,” was the reply.

“Did she?” said the official, giving her a speculative look.  “I’ll have to watch the matches this cycle.  She sounds interesting.”

The guard led her off to a small room were her feet were again placed in restraints.  When the door shut, small pod-like structures tucked in to alcoves of the room opened.  Four stunningly beautiful women wearing what looked almost like white and gray latex with the same glowing lines—this time in blue—stepped out of the alcoves and walked in unison towards her.  They circled her until they all faced her and raised a hand each.  A bright light glowed at the end of the little finger on each woman’s hand, making her think of laser pointers for a moment; and then they lowered their hands towards her.

“Hey!” she yelped as the glowing lights sliced her clothes off of her, leaving her standing naked and surrounded.  The women seemed to ignore her as they continued to slice off her boots.  One of them walked behind where she stood to retrieve what looked like a Frisbee with a hole in the center that stood on a small, raised platform.

“Another sexy fantasy ruined,” she muttered to herself as the women continued to work, ignoring her.  She watched as the remains of her clothes seemed to be sucked down a small opening in the floor.  As she stood there, irritated, naked, and confused, she noticed a pale white glow around her neck.  Where she usually wore a rounded circle collar of titanium as a necklace; there was now a glowing white ring.  The only thing that appeared the same was that the small tag that hung from it still dangled in front of her throat.  Where before she could feel the flowing script that etched the word ‘No’ into the metal, this glowing disc seemed to have small lines and circles etched into it.

“Excuse me,” she said, catching the arm and finally the attention of one of the women.  “What does this say?” she asked, motioning at the disc hanging at her throat.

“It’s binary.  It says, ‘No’,” the woman replied.  “You should not move so much.  You are slowing down processing and armor application.”

“Armor application?” she said, confused until she realized that the same black substance that made up the soldiers clothes appeared to be crawling up her legs.  The sensation was not painful, but distinctly odd.  As she stood there, it flowed up her body, creating clothing that covered her like the soldiers’.  The women continued to move around her; now coming back towards her grasping oddly- shaped pieces in their hands.  They began attaching the pieces to the suit that now covered her from the neck down.  Soon, she appeared to have greaves, bracers, chest, and thigh armor attached to her.  The woman standing behind her moved forward now, a shape in the corner of her eye.  She felt a shock as the woman placed a disc on her back.  It seemed to have some sort of holder or dock to keep it in place; because the woman moved her hands and twisted the disc in her back.  Another shock went through her at this move.  She was only partially paying attention to the voice telling her that "loss of disc is cause for termination.  All personal data is kept on your disc...”  There must have been more; however, she hadn’t been paying attention to it while feeling like she’d just tapped a bug zapper.  White lines now glowed on her suit.

“Program will now proceed to Games,” one of the women said.  The women stepped backwards into the alcoves and pods that they had come from; the pods closing over them until they appeared as they had earlier.  The restraints on her feet were released with a small ‘click’ of sound.  Before her, another door on the far side of the room slid open.

“No way, buddy” she said under her breath.  “Not going anywhere ‘til I know what’s going on first.”

As if in response to her plan, the floor shocked her.

“Crap!” she yelled, jumping a step away.  The floor shocked her again.  Again she jumped, yelling at the shock.  Another shock came quickly.

“Okay, okay, I get it,” she said, heading towards the doorway.  “Whoever is doing this…you’re a dick!”

* * *

 

Once she passed through the doorway, the door slid closed behind her, effectively locking her in some sort of glass- or plexi- walled elevator.  It took her to a court or arena of some sort.  A person clad in a black, armored suit similar to what she wore stood on the other side of the arena.  It was impossible for her too tell a gender in the suit that they wore.

“Okay, what now,” she wondered.  She didn’t have to wonder long, as the figure on the other side reached onto its’ back and pulled off the disc attached there.  She had just enough time to think-- _These things come off?_ \--when a voice over a loudspeaker said, “Combatants 13 and 14: Disc Wars.”  The figure on the other side of the arena flung his disc at her like a Frisbee.  Deciding that she had been hit enough for one night, she ducked.  The disc whined over her head and rebounded off of the wall behind her, striking sparks and gouging a line in the wall as it did so.

“Hey, be careful.  You could hurt someone like that!” she yelled at the figure on the other side of the room.  Unfortunately for them, her yell distracted them momentarily as their disc came whirring back towards them.  She watched, horrified, and the disc carved a gouge across the figure’s chest as they tried to catch their disc.  Light spilled from the gash, as with a sharp cry their body broke apart into small cubes that tumbled to the floor and began to disappear.

The voice came over the loudspeaker again.  “Combatant 13: winner.  Combatant 14: deresolution.  Combatant 13 versus Combatant 9.  Begin.”

With a feeling of shock she realized that another figure had entered the arena and was already running towards her.

“Oh, no,” she breathed, and then they were there; swinging their disc at her like some sort of knife or blade.  She leaned back, barely evading the disc as it swung at her.  For whatever reason, this opponent didn’t try to throw their disc.  They kept trying to slash at her with it.  She rolled backwards in a somersault and reached for the disc on her back, inwardly thanking the friends that had taught her some basic tumbling, self-defense, and the beginnings of knife-fighting the year before.  Slashing at the figure before her, she managed to get them to take a step back; keeping herself from being pinned against the wall.

“Look, I don’t want to fight you!” she yelled at them.  “Let’s just stop trying to kill each other, okay?”  The only response from the figure was a renewed assault.  She aimed a blow at their head, causing them to flinch back.  In the second that their reaction bought her, she ran as fast as she could away from them. 

“We can still stop fighting!” she yelled over her shoulder, trying to get as far away as the arena allowed.  The steady but cautious advance of the other was their only reply.  Almost in tears, she pleaded, “Please stop.” 

A voice answered her, tired and resigned.  “We can’t.  There’s no other way out.”

She flung her disc at them, hoping that her aim was true.  It struck them in the side, the edge of the disc burying itself just under their ribs.  She watched numbly as they fell apart into tiny cubes and disappeared like the first fighter had.  She had killed them.  The first fighter’s death may have been an accident, but she had just killed someone.  She hadn’t known their name or even seen their face until a few moments ago. 

Enough was enough.  She was through with these ‘games’.  She was getting out of here.  She went and waited by the door that the last combatant had come from.  The voice overhead spoke again.

“Combatant 13: winner.  Combatant 9: deresolution.  Next match: Combatant 13 versus Combatant 4.”

She waited until the door in front of her slid open to admit her next opponent.  When the door had opened half-way, she reached in and grabbed the fighter standing on the other side and pulled them to the ground and herself through the doorway just as it slid shut.  She started down the short hallway towards the door that stood at the end.  She would just keep going through doors until she got out.  The door at the end of the hall slid open to reveal a darkened space beyond it.  Quickly, she slipped in.  As the door slid closed behind her, the lights came on, showing her to be in a larger arena.  Overhead, the voice spoke again.

“Illegal action by Combatant 13.  Final combat.  Combatant 13 versus Rinzler.”

A dull roaring sound began building; and she realized that the crowds watching from the other side of the arena walls were cheering and chanting.  Some were saying, “Rinzler”, and others, “derezz”.  Neither chant sounded very comforting to her at the moment.  She looked around for her new opponent.

A tall, well-built figure in black strode through a door on the other side of the arena.  He moved confidently, with a predator’s easy grace towards the starting area.  ‘This must be the “Rinzler” whose name the crowd was chanting,’ she thought.  Unlike the other people she had seen, he had only a few lines and small squares of light on this suit.  Reaching behind him, he brought his disc forward and then split it into two discs.  He moved swiftly, a disc held in each hand, crouching with one held higher behind him.  She recognized the stance as one that would allow him to block or strike with either hand.

 _Crap_ , she thought to herself.   _This guy’s gonna kill me.  I need a beat that I can move to if I’m going to have any kind of a chance._

As if on cue, she could hear Prodigy’s ‘Smack my Bitch Up’ begin playing.  She took a deep breath, and pulled the disc from her back.  “Begin final round,” said the overhead voice. 

 _Time to find out how well I learned, guys,_ she thought, and then _HE_ was there; swinging his discs almost faster than she could block them.  She flipped backwards, slicing at him as she did so, causing him to take a step back.

* * *

 

Above the arena, a bored figure lounged, watching both fighters in action.  The observer reached for a pair of small metallic balls and began to revolve them in their hand.  After a minute of watching the action below, they reversed the direction of the balls.

In the arena, a soft alarm sounded as an arrow in the center of the arena began to change the direction it was pointing.  Rinzler’s helmet turned towards the arrow, and then he broke away; running towards the far wall. _I know I’m not that good.  What’s going o—_  The thought was cut off suddenly as up became down, down became up, and she slammed into the ceiling that had just become the floor. Rolling quickly, she managed to avoid Rinzler; who landed, cat-like, striking the floor where she had been lying just a moment before.  Again, he attacked, and again she managed to barely block him.  With every blow and strike that she blocked though, she could feel all of the previous blows, strikes, punches, and shocks taking their toll.  She was tiring.  She could feel it, she could tell by how she was just a little slower each time.    And, she noticed with dismay, _he_ could tell, too.  The sound of the buzzer barely registered until she saw Rinzler running towards the wall again.  She tried to backflip as he leapt; hoping to land on her feet this time.  She heard her friend’s voice in her head; reminding her that sometimes, the best attack is the most unexpected.

She landed on her feet, staggering and going to one knee as she tried to keep her balance.  Ripping her helmet off her head, she looked up as Rinzler came leaping down towards her.  She ran and jumped up _towards_ him as he descended; swinging her helmet as hard as she could to connect with his head.

Now _Rinzler_ staggered as the blow knocked him back.  The roar from the crowd was almost deafening in her ears, but she didn’t hear it.  All she heard was the beat she moved to as she attacked again, this time with her disc.

Dodging her disc, Rinzler backhanded his left disc at her; slicing her cheekbone under her right eye.  She didn’t even feel the thin, burning line on her face as the blood started to flow.  She swung her disc again, trying to catch him off-guard for just a moment.  Less than a second later, she slammed into the ground as Rinzler leg-swept her feet out from under her.  He knelt, straddling her, his foot on her left arm as her hand clutched her disc.  She glared up at him as he loomed over her; a disc at her throat, the other raised high and slightly behind him, ready to slice down and into her at any moment.  She glared up at him and then…

 

* * *

 

Rinzler sometimes felt that the only time he was truly free was in the Games arena.  He was the final champion, the one that only the best would face.  The chance for a challenge still drew him, gave him the opportunity to use his skills.  Disappointingly, there wasn’t much need for his skills to win, anymore.  He found himself using them instead to draw the matches out longer.  That in itself was another disappointment.  Most programs gave up when they saw him standing there.  Despair would be written all over them at the first sound of his growl.  Unfortunately for them, their despair irritated him; and irritation always seemed to make that damaged, growling sound that was what they would hear instead of a voice even louder.  He entered the arena upon hearing that a combatant had made an illegal action in the Games.   Failure to follow the rules of the game only meant that you faced Rinzler sooner rather than later.

He strode into the arena and took his stance.  The program standing across from him was slight, small, and obviously female.  She was short.  Her head would most likely come up only as far as his chin, if that.  Strong legs and full hips were graced with a small waist and small, high breasts.  He would have ignored all of this except for her eyes.  Oddly-colored, they met his unflinchingly from behind her visor without a trace of the usual despair.  Determination was there in large amounts, a good bit of anger, and a little fear.  But absolute resolve, not despair, was in those oddly-colored eyes.  Whoever this program was, this match was likely to be the most interesting one he had had in quite a while.

“Begin combat,” came the command from overhead.  Time to find out what this program was made of.

He attacked, slicing at her with his discs.  To his surprise, she managed to block his blows.  He continued to strike at her, forcing her to spend energy and strength blocking him.  She flipped backward, slicing at him with her disc as she did so.  Shocked, he took a step back, now having to block _her_ blow towards him.  He had often baffled and frustrated his opponents before by flipping and using other acrobatic maneuvers in combat, but had never had a program do so to him before.  Rinzler heard the alarm sound, warning of a gravity change, and ran towards the wall after glancing at the arrow showing which direction the change would take. 

He looked over his shoulder at the female program in time to see her slam into what was now the floor.  He leapt off of the wall, aiming himself at the floor where she lay.

As though she sensed him coming, she rolled to the side, barely avoiding him as he landed.  She was on her feet and blocking his blows less than a picocycle later.  But she was tiring.  The more blows he forced her to block, the slower she was at blocking them.  He could see the unhappiness in her eyes as she realized that he knew that she was slowing.

The gravity alarm sounded again, the buzzer signaling Rinzler to prepare for the gravity change.  He ran and leapt up the wall towards the ceiling.  He could see out of the corner of his eye that the female program had done a backflip, trying to orient herself to the change.  She caught on quickly.  He saw her stagger as she landed.  Rinzler watched her as she ripped off her helmet with one hand and held it as he fell towards her, ready to take her down.  Unexpectedly, _SHE_ leapt towards _HIM_.  Swinging her helmet with what must have been all of her strength, she struck Rinzler in the head.

Rinzler staggered as the shock of the blow went through his head; dazing him and knocking him off-balance for a moment.  The program swung her disc at him, attacking again.  No program had _ever_ done this before, or come as close as her to injuring him seriously in all his time in the Games.

Angry now, he dodged her disc and swung his left disc backhanded at her face.  He thought that he had struck her, but must have somehow missed. Instead of derezzing, the program swung at him again.  Ducking her disc a second time, Rinzler leg-swept her; knocking her off her feet and sending her to the ground.  Kneeling, he straddled her body; his foot on her left arm where she clutched at her disc.  Over the disc he held at her throat, its spinning edge ready to slice in to her, another disc raised to be buried in her body at any moment; and still anger, not despair, in those strange eyes.  And then…

* * *

 

She punched him.  Swung her fist as hard as she could; and punched him just under his raised arm in his side where his armor left him unprotected.  She heard his pained grunt; and expected him to kill her right then.  Instead, a strangely growling voice softly said, “User,” in a tone almost of wonder.  Rinzler grabbed her arm and pulled her upright.  He turned and faced what looked like a stadium box where a few shadowy figures moved.  A voice came over the loudspeaker.

“Identify your designation, program.”

‘Screw that, buddy,’ she thought angrily.  ‘I’m not telling anyone who just put me through this anything about myself.’

“No!” she shouted up at the box.  

A figure with thick lines of bright golden-yellow light running along it moved into view.

“Identify!” thundered a voice.

“No designation given!” she yelled back.  _Try that one on, jerks_ , she thought, feeling a little smug at their evident irritation, even knowing that antagonizing whoever was in charge here was probably not the smartest thing that she could have done.

“Bring her to me,” came the second voice again.

Rinzler took her by the arm and led her away.

* * *

 

As he led her away, Rinzler’s memory played back what had just happened.  He had been ready to derezz the only program to be defiant to the very end.  While he enjoyed the challenge of the Games, he hated that his programming required the deresolution of the defeated programs.  The look in her eyes that said as clearly as words, that trapped and beaten as she was she still had not given up, had given him pause.  He had wondered for a moment if she was an ISO.  She had the white circuitry, and with her erratic actions and those eyes… Rinzler had never seen eyes like hers before.

And then she had _punched_ him!  Trapped, about to derezz, disarmed, and she was still trying to fight!  He had almost followed his programming and reacted to the attack by derezzing her.  All attacks were to be returned, after all; until the attacker surrendered or was derezzed.  _Almost_ , but for the shine of red on her face.  ISOs and Basics didn’t bleed when injured.  Only one thing in his memory files had ever bled.  Flynn.  She wasn’t a program.

“User.”

Rinzler had heard the wonder and surprise in his own voice.  Flynn was the only User to ever enter the Grid or his old system.  And she was _not_ Flynn.  _Who was she?_

He had grabbed her arm and pulled her up to stand slightly in front of him; facing the command box.  He heard the voice of Jarvis, the system administrator’s assistant program speak.

“Identify your designation, program.”

 _She’s not a program, you idiot,_  Rinzler had thought.   _Take a good look at her_.

The User next to him responded by shouting back “No!” to the demand for a designation.

He watched as another program came into view above them.  Their voice thundered, amplified through the arena.

“Identify!”

Ah, no _program_ for him.  _HE_ had realized that she was different.

This time the User yelled back, “No designation given!”  Clever.  Either she didn’t have a name to give, or she was still refusing to give it.  There was no way to tell which, with that answer.  All this, and _still_ defiant. 

He heard the order given.

 

Direct orders had to be followed.  Rinzler would bring her.

* * *

 

She glanced at the tall figure next to her as he led the way down a hallway.  He was half-guiding, half-leading her as he held her arm firmly and steered her as they walked.  An odd, slightly distorted growling sound came from him as he walked.  While he wasn’t hurting her arm or dragging her after him; the grip on her arm made sure that she knew he wasn’t going to let her escape him.

He confused her.  That was all there was to it.  One moment, he was about to kill her, and the next, he had stopped and was helping her up.  Alright, so he _pulled_ her up.  After punching him, she had thought that the best she would get would be a quick death.  And then he looked at her and just…stopped.  At least, she thought he had looked at her.  With that black helmet of his, it was impossible to tell.  She wished she could see his eyes.  That might tell her _something._   Why did he say ‘user’, anyway?  Why did people keep calling her ‘program’?  Who was this _Rinzler_?

He led her into a large room.  The same golden-yellow-lit figure in black sat lounging on what she could only think of as a throne.  Oh, sure, no gold and not decorated, but she knew a throne when she saw one.  The lounging figure stood up, his long coat swinging almost cape-like around him.  She watched warily as his black helmet retracted into the collar of his cloak to show a smiling man that appeared to be in his late thirties, maybe early forties, looking at her.  With his thick, blonde hair and bright blue eyes, that friendly smile just seemed to radiate a cheerful personality and harmlessness.  So, why did she absolutely not trust him?  So far, he was the only one who hadn’t done something unpleasant to her.

“Well,” the smiling man said.  “Let’s see what we’ve got here.  Rinzler, her disc.”  He held out his hand, waiting.

Rinzler stepped behind her, while more of the guards continued to watch her. She felt his hands on the disc on her back.  He gave it a slight twist and with a very faint ‘click’, that she almost felt rather than heard, lifted it away from her in his hands; handing it over to the smiling man before her with a slight bow of his head.

The smiling man took the disc in his gloved hands and touched something along one of the sides.  What looked like a holographic display of her head appeared floating above the disc.  He made an ‘hhmm’ noise and seemed to be looking for something.  Or maybe it was at something.  She hated that she really had no idea what he was doing.

He handed the disc back to Rinzler. “Very interesting.  This one’s rare, folks.  Very rare indeed.  Rinzler, take our guest to a room where she can rest.  Take care of whatever she needs.  I’ll see to her myself, later.”  He started to turn away.

“Wait,” she said.  “Who are you?  What’s going on?”

“My name is CLU,” he told her, still smiling as he turned his attention back to her.  “As far as what is ‘going on’, you’re my guest for the moment.”

“Your _guest_ , huh?  So, CLU, does that mean that you are the one in charge here?” she asked.

“I’m the system administrator for the Grid; so yes, I am the one in charge,” he told her.

“Then I want to tell you; you’re a dick.  And I’ve had more than enough of your _hospitality_ to last me the rest of my life, I think,” she said, bluntly.  “So, how about I just go home?  Seems like an idea that works for me….”

CLU gave an odd laugh and shook his head.  “No,” he said.  “That’s not going to work.  Not in your case.  You will be enjoying my hospitality for a while longer.  Rinzler will see to it that you do.”  He motioned to Rinzler; who took her by the arm again and led her away.


	3. I Don't Understand You

As Rinzler led her down another hallway that led to rooms that CLU had set aside for himself, Rinzler and other high-ranking programs; he watched the User from the corner of his eye.  She glanced at him from time to time, but seemed to be concentrating more on walking down the hall. _She must be tired from the arena,_ he thought when she stumbled a little as she walked.  Yes, the circuit lines on her suit were much dimmer than when they had been fighting.  At least it would not take much longer to reach the empty room that she would be quartered in for now.  He was not sure what to do with the User if she became too tired to function properly.

CLU had called her _rare_.  She was, indeed, rare.  It had surprised Rinzler that CLU had not told the others that she was a User.  What was CLU planning?  Why was he keeping her status as a User a secret?

He stopped walking and looked at the User next to him.  She was stumbling more often, now.  Her circuits were even dimmer; and as he watched they seemed to flicker slightly.  She stopped walking and leaned against the wall. 

“Sorry,” she said, looking up at him.  “I need to eat something.  It’s a blood-sugar thing.  I’ll be fine if I just eat something soon.” 

Rinzler nodded his head slowly, and began leading her down the hall once more.  He didn’t know what this ‘eating’ or ‘blood-sugar thing’ was; however, he thought that if Users could do whatever it was while standing in a hall, she would have done so already.  The sooner he got her to the room, the better.

A few nanocycles later she stumbled again and fell to one knee.  He pulled her up, trying to make her stand, only to have her collapse to the floor when he stopped supporting her. 

“Sorry,” she said weakly, a wobbly smile on her pale face.  “I don’t think my legs are going to work right now.”

Rinzler looked at her again.  Her circuits were flickering faster and more often, and were much dimmer than before.  If she had been a program, he would think that she was running out of energy and about to crash.  Could Users crash?  What would happen to her if she did? 

No, he decided.  She must not crash.  If she ran out of energy and crashed; she might not be able to power up and reboot again if she did.  Rinzler would not allow this to happen to the only User he had ever seen on the Grid other than Flynn. 

Flynn.

Flynn had gotten low on energy once, too.  Not nearly this low, but still low enough to be troubling.  He had been fine though, after the three of them had found the energy pool…  No.  It was better not to view those old memory files.  All it did was hurt to review them.  But now he knew what to do.

Rinzler reached down and picked the User up in his arms.  She looked startled, but did not fight him as he started down the hall again.  He stopped and waited for the door to his room to open.  He wasn’t sure where he was originally meant to take her; and did not want to waste time looking for it.  As soon as the door was open, he carried her in and set her down so that she was sitting on the edge of his bed before turning to walk over to a hidden cabinet set into the wall.  Opening it, he grabbed a vial of a glowing blue liquid and brought it to where she sat slumped on the bed.  She was losing the battle to stay upright, but was still fighting to do so.  Bemused, Rinzler wondered if she ever stopped fighting _anything_.  He opened the vial and helped her to sit up straighter.

* * *

 

 

“What is that?” she asked weakly.  Rinzler was holding a vial of some sort of blue fluid, and it was _glowing_.  He put it in her hand and tried to help her bring it to her mouth.

“No,” she said faintly, moving her head back and away from the vial.  “Not ‘til you tell me what…”

“ _Drink_ ,” growled the voice from behind the helmet, interrupting her.  He tried again to lift her hand that held the vial to her mouth.

She didn’t understand him; however, he had never tried to hide what he was doing, even when trying to kill her earlier.  In fact, if he wanted her dead, he could have simply finished her off in the arena; or any other time he chose, earlier.

Taking a deep breath, she drank what he offered.  Almost immediately, she started to feel a little better.  Whatever had been in the vial, it was helping.  She felt herself starting to slip away from awareness, and realized that she had fallen against him at some point.   He gently laid her down on the bed.  The last thing that she was aware of was looking up at him.

“I don’t understand you,” she mumbled as she slid into unconsciousness.

 

* * *

 

 

Rinzler looked down at where she lay on the bed.  _She_ didn’t understand _him_? This User made _no_ sense at all to him.  She was even more confusing than Flynn had been.  Until now, he had thought that was impossible for anyone to be.

He tilted her head to the side to get a better look at her injuries.  She had a bruise already purpling up the side of her jaw, and the cut from his disc crossed her right cheekbone almost to the center of her face.  Using the remaining energy in the vial, he washed the dirt and dried blood from the cut and off of her face.  Thankfully, the cut wasn’t very deep.  Rinzler had no idea how Users healed from injuries; however, the injuries she had sustained did not appear to threaten her continued functioning.

Rinzler straightened up and stretched slightly.  The need to downcycle was beginning to affect him.  He needed to enter a sleep cycle soon to reset his processes for maximum efficiency.  He looked at the User sleeping on the bed.   Well, at least if he was on the bed he would wake if she tried to leave or needed something.  He stretched out on the other side of the bed next to the sleeping User and entered his sleep cycle.

* * *

 

Rinzler came out of his sleep cycle.  He looked over at the User lying next to him on the bed.  She had apparently moved during her sleep cycle, and now lay turned away from him on her side.  He leaned over her as she lay there to get a better look at the only User he had ever seen, other than Flynn.  He tugged lightly on her shoulder so that she rolled until she was lying half-turned in the bed.

Her hair had come loose at some point in time; and now spilled across her face and lay partially coiled near her disc dock.  He leaned even further over her and carefully brushed her hair from her face.  The gash from his disc, while cleaned, had not yet healed.  It appeared to have developed a stiff crust of some sort over it.  Was this how Users healed?  An odd shape coiled around the rim of her ear.  Flynn had not had such a thing on his ears.  Did only female Users have them?  He had so many questions about her.  How she had come to be on the Grid was only the beginning of them.

Rinzler wished that she was active.  He would have liked to get a better look at her eyes. Programs did not have eyes that mixed two different colors together.  Did other Users have eyes like hers?

 As if in response to his wish, the User on the bed stirred slightly and blinked her eyes open to look up at him.

* * *

 

She woke to find herself on a strange bed with a black-helmeted figure leaning over her.  She felt herself tense slightly at the realization that if he stopped holding his body above hers, she would be pinned and unable to move away.

 

“You know, this is kinda awkward,” she said lightly.  “I mean, I don’t normally wake up in bed with people who have tried to kill me.  In fact, this is the first time.”

She watched as the man above her cocked his head to the side, making her think of a curious bird.  Maybe a bird of prey, she thought, trying to decide if it should eat what it had just found.

“Not to be rude, but could you give me a little more room?  This is a little too close for me to be comfortable with.”

From the doorway came a voice.  “I don’t know…the two of you look plenty comfortable to me.”

 


	4. CLU's Offer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the Grid. Together, we can make it perfect...
> 
> song list: 'Chainsaw Juggler' by the Four Postmen  
> 'Albinonio's Adagio in G Minor' by the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra  
>  

She turned her head to see CLU lounging in the doorway, watching the two figures on the bed.  He was smirking as he said, “Yep…plenty comfortable from here.” 

“Then again,” he continued, “Rinzler should be, at least.  This _is_ his room, after all.  I must admit, this was not what I had in mind when I ordered him to take care of you.”

Rinzler easily moved himself from where he was; getting off of the bed and going to stand at attention near the wall of the room.  CLU walked closer towards her as she moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

CLU leaned forward to get a better look at her face.

“At least he cleaned you up.  It’s a shame that such a pretty face was marred.”  He reached out a hand as though to touch her face.  She moved back out of reach of his hand.

Shaking his head as though, while he had expected her to move away, he was still disappointed; CLU sighed and let his hand fall away.

“You know, you would never have been put through everything that you went through had I known that you were here.  The Games were not meant for Users like yourself.  You would have been treated as my guest.  My honored guest, which, by the way, you are.  I hope that I can change your opinion of me before we are through.”

“You keep calling me a user.  What on earth are you talking about, I’m a user?  You don’t know me well enough to say that about me.  What is this place, anyway?  Where exactly am I?”

CLU turned away from her and started to pace slowly around the room.  He turned his head to get another look at her, and spoke.  “You really do not know?  Do you remember how you got here?”

“I don’t even know where _here_ is!” she said in exasperation.  “Look, I was in the arcade in some sort of basement.  I tripped, fell, and must have hit my head.  When I got up, everything was weird.  Nothing’s been the way it should be.  Half of the world seems to have disappeared; the other half is changed; and people insist on calling me a ‘program’, and a ‘user’, whatever that is supposed to mean.”

I know I’m not dreaming; because if I was, this would have been back to normal when I woke up.  Waking up in a bed with a guy who tried to kill me; a cut on my face, and what feels like a boatload of bruises is **_not_** normal.  At least, it’s not normal for me.  I don’t know what _he_ _’_ _s_ used to…”  She jerked a thumb in Rinzler’s direction as she said the last.

“If it makes you feel any better, Rinzler is not used to waking up with someone, either.”  CLU looked hard at her as she sat there.

“Of all the things that could have happened, you are the most unexpected that I would have thought possible.”  He began pacing again as he continued to speak.

“First, you are on, or in, the Grid.  Someone like you once described it as a ‘digital world’.  I was created to help make this world—this system—perfect.  Now, I am the only one left to guide the system to perfection.  I am getting closer to achieving that goal.  When digital perfection has been reached, I will help you world, the world _outside_ of the Grid system.”

“ _My_ world,” she interrupted, “what do you mean _my_ world?”

“Second,” CLU said, continuing as though she had not interrupted him, “programs are what _WE_ are.  You are what we programs call a _User_.  A User created the Grid and the programs that live in it.  Then, we were abandoned.”

You somehow got into the Grid.  You are now in a digital world; not the world that you came from. I don’t know how you were able to arrive here; however, I do know that you cannot leave.  _THIS_ is your world, too, now.”

“What do you mean, I can’t leave?” she asked, becoming thoroughly alarmed by what CLU had just told her.  “This is some sort of joke, right?  I’m flesh and blood.  I’ve even bled in this place to prove it.

I don’t belong here.  There has to be some way for me to get back home.  You just said that the Users that created this place left you.  I just need to get out of here the same way that they did.”

CLU shook his head at her words.  “I said that we were abandoned.  I never said that the creator went back to his world.  The portal only goes one way without a master key.  That was lost to us along with the creator.  The portal cannot be opened from this side even _with_ the key; and it has already closed.  No; like it or not, _THIS_ is your world now.”

CLU came closer and knelt down in front of her so that he could look her in the eyes.  Numbly, she sat there as he reached out and took her hand in his. 

“It doesn’t have to be bad.  You are a User.  You can help me to achieve perfection here in the Grid.  This can be a perfect world.  And with your help, we can even put an end to the need for the Games.  If we can completely reprogram them, defective programs will no longer be an issue.  The Games would not be needed to deal with them.”  

“What do you mean…reprogram them?” she asked CLU, confused.  “I’m not a programmer.  I wouldn’t know the first thing to do to reprogram something.  Someone.  Whatever.”

“But, you are a User…” CLU said looking confused himself, now. 

She shook her head.  “I’m what is called and _end_ -user.  Someone else does the programming; I just learn how to use the program afterwards.”  She stopped and paused for a moment before amending what she had said.  “Sometimes.  Some programs, anyway.  The only programming that I’ve ever done was in college on a Fortran77.  And I don’t think you want to know how to calculate where a ball is going to land, do you?”

CLU looked at the User for a moment.  Finally, a determined look on his face, he said, “You are a User.  The Grid has already responded to you.  It has even changed your digital coding for you, slightly.  Or did you not realize that?”

She stared up at him, startled, and blurted out, “What?”

“You removed your helmet…not retracted it like normal.  And did you not realize that music is coming from you?”

She drew back slightly, shocked by what she had been told.  Music?  It was only then that she realized she had heard music whenever she thought about it.  In fact, there had been music playing softly, almost inaudibly, just a minute ago.

CLU continued speaking.  “I have never heard of Users doing that before.  It is logical that it must have happened when you came to the Grid.”

Her MP3 player, she realized.  If what CLU had said was real… It had been in her pocket; but disappeared when she was in the arcade’s basement.

“If you can have the Grid respond to you in that regard; then you must be able to access it, perhaps instinctively.  You can help with what I need most.”

“What would you need me to do?” she asked.

“You can erase a program’s primary function.  Once that has been done, I would have the ability to recompile a new primary function for them.  Currently, I can only partition off such areas of a program and reprogram them with new instructions.  The current process can be prone to glitches.  Programs sometimes revert back to their old primary directives, goals, and functions if they are not routinely checked and their subroutines updated.  I do not have the time to do so with every program.  Without wiping their core programming, they sometimes rebel.  If they don’t follow my orders, how can I create the perfect system?”

I need your help.”            

She slowly drew her hand out of CLU’s.  “I need some time to think it over,” she said, slowly.

He gave her a small smile.  “Of course,” he said.  “Rinzler will stay here in case you require anything.  I will return later to hear your answer.”  With that said, CLU stood and left.  The door slid shut behind him.

* * *

 

Rinzler felt the change in the door’s coding that let him know it was locked.  CLU was apparently taking no chances on this User trying to leave.  At least now he understood what CLU wanted with this User.  If she decided to help him, CLU could erase all of a program’s memories and their primary function directives.  CLU’s status as system administrator already let him change a program’s coding; and partition off their memories and primary function goals.  Rinzler was a walking example of such changes himself.  With the User’s help, however, CLU could completely rewrite a program’s code to do only what CLU wanted.  He could make them into the perfect slaves.  They would not even realize that something had been changed.  They would not be able to remember or conceive of desiring anything other than following CLU’s every wish.  It would work for any program on the Grid…even him. 

The thought of losing even more of the program he had once been filled him with dread.  If she were to cease to function, he and all of the other programs would be safer.

He could not end her run-time.  Rinzler might not be able to follow them; however, his original primary directives sometimes still crossed the partition in his code as memories.  He had fought for the Users once.  He would not pervert his User’s programming in such a fashion if there was any way for him to avoid doing so.  He was certain that if he ever ended a User’s run-time, he would lose his last grasp on the program that he once was.

 _My User_ , he thought almost desperately, _I wish you could tell me what to do_.  He had not heard from his User in so long…  Was he even capable of hearing his User, now?  So many code changes, patches, upgrades…he wasn’t the same program that he had been originally.

Rinzler glanced over at the User still sitting on the edge of the bed.  She had not moved, apparently lost in thought.  He walked over to the other side of the room and looked out the window that made up almost the entire wall to stand, watching programs moving around below.  He had lost track of how long he had stood there, watching; when he heard a voice behind him.

What happens to a program that has had their primary directive goals and functions erased?”

Startled, he turned his helmeted head slightly to regard the User as she stood a few feet behind him.  He has not even heard her move; which only pointed out how potentially dangerous it could have been to become so caught up in his own thoughts.  A subroutine filed the information away, even as he turned his head to look back out of the window again.

“I asked, ‘What happens to a program that has had their primary directive goals and functions erased’?"

Why was the User asking him this?

“I know you can talk.  I heard you speak back in the arena.  And last night.  So, are you going to answer me anytime soon?”

“Why?” he asked, the ever-present distortion in his vocal processes causing him to growl out the question.

“Why, _what_?  Why should you talk to me; or why am I asking you?”

“Why me?” he growled out, feeling confused.  Why did she care?

She sat on the floor and drew her knees up against her chest.  Wrapping her arms around her knees, she looked at him steadily.

“For a number of reasons.  One: who else _can_ I ask, other than CLU?  Two: I don’t trust CLU for some reason.  I don’t know why, but I don’t.  Three: If I’m going to decide if I should help CLU do this; I need to at least know what it does to the program whose code I erase.  I haven’t seen that many programs; but they’ve all acted like the people in my world.  I wouldn’t decide to do something that would affect the people in my world without learning as much as I could first; why do that here?”

So, what happens to them?  Do they stay the same?  I don’t want to do something that’s going to hurt people.  Programs.  Whatever.”

Rinzler stood motionless for a moment.  Flynn had never asked how the programs felt about something first.  He had just made changes that he said were for the best.  Once again, this User had surprised him.

He realized that she was still staring at him, apparently waiting for him to reply.  “It changes them,” he said finally.

She cocked her head to the side.  “How so?” she asked.

“It takes all of their memories, all of their thoughts away.  They start out with only the thoughts that you—or whoever the programmer is—give them.  All that they were before is _gone_.  They have no goals or functions other that what you give to them.  And they would never realize that there was any other way to be or think.”

She sat there quietly for a moment.  She didn’t look at him, her gaze directed at the floor as she posed her next question.  “And with the partitioning and reprogramming that CLU does now?  What happens to them?"

Rinzler looked away, glad that she couldn’t see his face thru the helmet.  His helmet gave him at form of privacy that even CLU could not take away.  No one could know if he was looking at them or not; or how much attention he gave them.  Now, it kept her from watching him flinch at her question.

“Sometimes the partitioning… _leaks_.  Memories of their past and previous goals, directives, and functions come through.  The program cannot act on them; they can only follow their new program coding.  But they do not lose all of themselves.  Sometimes, they can remember that it was different.  That _THEY_ were different.”

“How do you know this?” she asked him. 

He didn’t answer.  A nanocycle later, he heard her speak, her voice so soft he almost couldn’t understand what she said.

“Is that what happened to you?”                                            

Rinzler spun around to face her again, the distorted growl louder than it had been in a _very_ long time.  She was still looking at the floor.

“I guessed,” she said softly.  “Did he reprogram you?  Or was it someone else?”

He stood there staring at the User as she huddled on the floor.  The ticking rumble of his growl filled the room.  Her head lifted and it felt like she was looking straight into his eyes, even through the helmet.  There was no way for her to see through his helmet, was there?  He hated the thought of losing anything else.  Even if it was only the privacy of the expressions behind his visor.

The User got up from where she had been sitting on the floor and walked over to the window he stood near.  She looked down at the programs going about their business below without speaking.

Time passed as they watched the programs in the system.  The lights from the programs showed brightly against the darkness of the Grid.

“I can’t do this to them.”

He glanced at the User who stood looking at the programs below.

“I can’t take who they are away from them.  I fought so hard to keep myself from disappearing once.  I can’t turn around and do that to them.”  She turned and looked up at him as though trying to see his face.  The look on her face confused him.  She looked…sad?  Angry?  Rinzler couldn’t tell.  He felt a sense of relief to hear that she wasn’t going to help CLU erase programs’ coding.  They would all be safe form that threat, now.

“CLU’s not going to take this well, is he?” she asked him.

No, CLU was not going to take hearing ‘no’ for an answer well at all.  There was no way of knowing how he would react to her reply.

Sighing, the User turned to look out the window again.

“It’s worth it,” he heard her mumble under her breath.  “It’s worth keeping them all safe.”

They both stood watching the Grid out of the window, waiting for the door opening to signal CLU’s return.

 

* * *

 

After what felt like years had passed, she heard the sound of the door opening, notifying her of CLU’s return.  She stiffened where she stood near the window.  Rinzler turned and went back to where he had been standing earlier; apparently waiting at attention for CLU to give orders.  Taking a deep breath, she turned to face the administrator program.

He was giving her the same cheerful, friendly smile that he had when she met him.  Thinking about how that smile might change soon made her more nervous than calming her; while she thought that ‘calm’ was likely what CLU wanted her to feel.  Calm, relaxed, and unguarded.

“Have you thought about what I talked to you about?  Helping me perfect this system?” he asked, still smiling gently at her.

“I gave it a lot of thought while you were gone…” she replied, walking over to where CLU waited, standing in the middle of the room.

“And…what did you decide?  We can make this system, this world perfect together.”

She looked up at his face.  “If I erase their original programming, it changes them doesn’t it?  They won’t be the same as they were before, will they?”

CLU’s smile started to fade around the edges a little as she watched. 

“Not quite the same; they would be happier.  We wouldn’t have as many defective programs.  We wouldn’t have to take drastic measures to deal with them like we do now.”

“Drastic measures?” she said quietly.  “You _kill_ them.  You put them in your ‘games’ and make them fight to the death…deresolution, whatever you call it.  They fight until they are destroyed.  How many _defective_ programs survive the games?”

“I don’t understand what this has to do wi—“

“How many?” she demanded, interrupting him.

“None, so far.  If they weren’t defective…” he began.

“None,” she said, interrupting him again.   “And how many of these programs would _choose_ to be wiped of their base coding?”

“I do not know why you are asking about this.  Are you going to help me in this, or not?” CLU demanded, his voice starting to leak anger around the edges.  He had stopped smiling now, and was looking at her with hard eyes. 

She walked a little closer, until she could easily have reached out and touched CLU if she wanted.  “You can read binary, right?” she asked him.

He gave her slightly bewildered look.  “Of course, every program can read binary.”

“Every program can read binary,” she repeated.  She looked into CLU’s face.  “I will help you, if you can answer some questions for me.”

* * *

 

Rinzler looked at the User in alarm from behind his helmet’s visor.  She had said that she wouldn’t help CLU erase programs’ coding.  Had the User lied?  If she helped CLU, Rinzler’s base coding would be erased.  Oh, CLU would have her erase a few ‘difficult’ programs first; however, as soon as CLU knew she could do so safely, his coding would be erased.

CLU looked at the User confidently.  “Ask me anything you like.  Once you have your answers, we can begin to make the Grid system perfect.” 

The User gave CLU a small, tight smile.  “Good.  Tell me…what ever happened to the chainsaw juggler?”  An odd melody began playing, almost inaudible at first, but slowly and steadily growing louder by the picocycle.  She continued with her questions.  “I heard he died, but nobody cried.  Instead they all chopped off their arms.  Well, that makes sense; he was loved by his fans…but tell me, how did he die?  They found him alone, all covered in blood with his arms by his side.”

If possible, CLU looked even more bewildered and confused at these questions that he had looked before.

“There is no logic to these questions,” CLU said, sounding confused.  “There is no program or User designated ‘Chainsaw Juggler’ here, dead or alive.  And no one would cut off their arms because someone else died.  That makes no sense.  Without further information, no one could know how someone died.  There is no way to answer these questions logically.”

“No,” she said thoughtfully, her gaze dropping to the floor.  “No logical answers…”  The small smile was still on her face as she idly fingered the disc attached to the ring around her neck.  Abruptly her hand left the disc as she looked back up into CLU’s eyes.  “My answer is on the disc hanging from my neck,” she told him.

CLU’s face was confused as his eyes went to the small disc.  It was evident when he realized what she meant, for his face grew cold and stiff.

“I should have known,” he said.  “Why did I even think that you might have helped?  I was a fool to expect anything helpful from you.  I should just derezz you; remove you from the system like a coding flaw or a parity error.  You Users are all the same; with your requests and demands,” CLU was muttering now, sounding almost as though he was talking to someone else.  “You are never willing to work on fixing the problems, though, are you?  I’ll fix that, though.  I’ll **_make_** you help me.”

“What you want isn’t going to fix anythi—“ her voice was cut off with a sharp cry as the back of CLU’s hand crashed against her face, knocking her to the floor. 

“You don’t know,” he said, breathing hard as he looked down on her pulling herself up into a sitting position; blood trickling and oozing from the cut on her face and from the corner of her mouth.  “You Users…you always have plans for what will and will not work; and you don’t KNOW what it truly—“

“I know one thing, CLU,” she said as she glared up at him.  “I know that you haven’t realized how much you have screwed up just now….”  She began to chuckle as she watched the administrator fuming.

“What now, CLU?” she asked, laughing.  “How are you going to make a User work for you on the Grid, now?  The one thing that I was useful to you for…and nothing you do will be able to change the way I feel.  Losing your temper just now has cost you any chance that you might have had.  I’ll either be afraid of you, or angry and hating you.  You would have better luck trying to reprogram me!  And there’s no way for you to reprogram a User!”

She was laughing so hard at this point that she was rocking back and forth, clutching her sides as she knelt on the floor.  Her breath came in gasps as she laughed.

CLU just stood there looking at her as she laughed.  “I would not worry about which way to feel about me.  I believe that you will do both before I am done,” he told her calmly.  With that said he turned and left the room.  The door slid shut behind him, closing away from his view the sight of the User on the floor who continued to laugh as he did so.

* * *

 

Rinzler stared at the User who now had tears running down her face as she continued to laugh.  She began singing a strange song along with the music that continued to play.  Were Users supposed to do things like this?  Flynn never had.  Was it possible that she had some sort of glitch, or had thrown an exception?

She was laughing quieter now.  The strange song stopped playing.  He watched as the User took a few deep breaths.

“Did you see the look on his face?” she asked him.  “He’ll never try to ask me to help him in that way again.”

Rinzler cocked his head slightly to the side and regarded her.  Was it possible that she had planned this?  Did the User purposefully antagonize CLU to this point to make sure her would not try to win her cooperation at another time?

He watched as she wiped the tears off of her face with the back of one hand.  Red smeared across her face as her hand moved over it.  The cut on her face had re-opened when CLU struck her.

Going over to the same cabinet as he had the night before; Rinzler opened it and removed two more vials of energy.  He went to where the User still knelt on the floor, and offered her his hand.  She looked at him for a moment, considering his hand, before placing her hand in his.  He pulled her up so that she could stand, and motioned for her to sit on the bed.

She sat on the bed where he had indicated and looked up at him as he stood there.  Now he could see her more clearly than he had earlier.  Her hair—which she had not fastened up again—hung in long, dark auburn waves down her back.  The tips of it tried to curl under as they brushed against the bed when she moved.  High cheekbones helped to frame those eyes of hers.  Brown and green at the same time, the hues shifted, spreading out in radiating spikes of color from the pupil even as he watched.  They shone from her earlier tears as she looked up at him.  The cut on her face had re-opened; the dried crust that had sealed it now split and oozing small drops of blood.  Streaks of blood had been wiped across her cheek below the cut from her wiping her eyes.  Opening one of the vials, he used a small amount of energy on his fingertips to clean the cut and wash the blood from her face. He then gave her the vial and motioned for her to drink it.

“Is this what you gave me yesterday?” she asked him.

Yesterday?  It must be some sort of User concept.  He was not certain what it meant, but he had given her energy the millicycle before, so he nodded in reply.

“Thank you, then,” she told him.  “And thank you for taking care of me.”

Rinzler waited until the User had started to drink the energy that he had given her; then he turned until his back was to her and he faced the wall.  It was an uncomfortable feeling—knowing she was at his unwatched back—and he could feel his proximity scans flaring to make certain she was not approaching him.  He retracted his helmet just enough to allow him to drink, and then quickly gulped down the energy.  After closing his helmet; he turned to face her once more.  He saw her looking at him curiously.

“You _were_ reprogrammed, weren’t you?” she asked.  “You tried to kill me at one point; but now you’re being nice to me.  CLU told you to take care of me yesterday.  He never said to be nice.  So, the only thing that I can think is that you were reprogrammed.  Does your current programming allow you to do what you want, or are you disobeying his orders?”

 _Oh, my User_ , he thought wearily.   _Why does she have to ask me this?_  The last thing that he wanted to do now was keep thinking about his code being erased or his reprogramming.

“I don’t think I said what I meant clearly.  What I meant was… _can_ you disobey CLU?”  she said.

Not wanting to dwell on the thought of reprogramming any longer, Rinzler pretended that he had not heard her question.  The damaged sound of his growl began to rumble irritatedly through the air.  The User continued to look at him; waiting for him to answer her question.  After a while she sighed.

“Fine.  It’s your personal business.  You don’t have to tell me.”

She rose from the bed and went to sit by the window.  She leaned back against the window’s frame and looked out over the Grid.  Soft flashes of light blinked over her face as far-off lightning brightened the clouds of the system’s sky.  On the street far below, small dots of light—the circuits of programs—moved about.  Soon, soft strains of music drifted through the small room Rinzler looked at the User as she sat by the window, her eyes focused on the darkened sky.  How was she able to make this music?  _What was it_?  The beat of it was slow and stately, but it flowed around him, sad and hopeful at the same time. 

It made him think of a night when he had been at the edge of the Sea of Simulation.  The ISO purge had begun; and ISOs where being destroyed whenever found.  But the Sea that had brought them forth still rolled in…wave after wave.  The possibility that sometime in the future, more ISOs could come into being seemed to wash in with each wave.  What was this music?  There was nothing like it that he had ever heard before.

He stepped forward to get the User’s attention.  His irritated growling had stopped earlier; surprised and then calmed by the User’s music.  She looked at him questioningly as he tilted his head to mime listening closely, and then waved his hand at the air as though asking what was in the air.

She looked at him in confusion.  Understanding seemed to dawn on her; because her face brightened slightly.  “You want to know what the music is?” she asked him.

Rinzler nodded his head.

“It’s Albinonio’s Adagio in G Minor.  I usually play it to calm and center myself.  It makes me feel like hidden possibilities are all around me; yet it’s also sad.  Maybe it’s only sad because I can’t see the possibilities, yet.  I don’t know why or how I played it.  I just…it played…it feels right somehow, for this moment.”

Rinzler considered what she had said for a moment before nodding his head in agreement.  It _did_ feel right for the moment.  He stood, looking out the window at the darkened system.  They stayed there, watching the Grid from the window; until he noticed the silence in the room.  Looking over at where the User was sitting, he realized that she had entered a sleep cycle and was now slumped against the window frame.  Picking her up, he carried her over to the bed and laid her down upon it.  He stared at her sleeping form for a moment; and then lay down on the other side of the bed and prepared to enter his own sleep cycle.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song list: 'Chainsaw Juggler' by the Four Postmen (because the first time I heard it while watching Tron: Legacy, I cracked up thinking about how insane CLU would driven by the logic used in the song...
> 
> 'Albinonio's Adagio in G Minor' (it really is my favorite, so I gave it to her, as well....)


	5. Trust I Seek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone needs someone that they can trust...

The scream caused Rinzler to snap back to alertness.  He leapt to his feet, discs spinning in his hands as he looked for the threat.  Nothing appeared as a threat to his scan of the confines of the small room.  He looked around again, confused as to what had happened when another scream filled the air.

It was the User.  She let out yet another scream and began struggling, as though fighting some unseen opponent.

“No!” she screamed out.  “I won’t let you take them!  Leave them alone!”

The User began thrashing harder on the bed.  She was begging someone or something.  “Please, just leave them alone!” she half-screamed, half-sobbed.

Worried that the User would hurt herself, Rinzler tried to restrain her hands without injuring her.  He had never seen anyone act this way before.  What was wrong with her?  Rinzler finally caught her wrists in his hands.  Instead of stilling, the User began to fight even harder.  She kicked at him and tried to push or pull him off-balance with her body.  Blows rained painfully on his body; making him glad that he always wore his body armor.  It was more difficult than he remembered, trying to restrain someone when he was not willing to risk injury to them.  It was another reminder of how long it had been since he had used such skills.  At last he resorted to practically lying on top of her, pinning her down with his body.

* * *

 

She snapped awake at the weight of a body holding her down.  Someone was holding her wrists in their hands, keeping her from being able to use them.  She could feel a body stretched over hers; the heaviness of it pinning her in place to the bed.  She had just woken from one nightmare, only to find herself apparently living in another one.  Panicked, she fought even harder.  A featureless black face loomed above her.

Who was it?  She couldn’t remember.  The need for her to be free was overwhelming.  She tried to throw herself from one side to the next in an attempt to shake them off of her.

“Get off of me!” she screamed at the black-clad figure.  “Let me go!”  She tried to push them off with her hands.

Growling, the figure gripped her wrists tighter and raising her arms above her head; slammed them into the bed.  The move caused them to press even closer to her body as she lay trapped beneath them.  The featureless black face was only inches away from hers.

It was the growling that did it.  The angry, distorted, slightly electronic-sounding growl that filled the air and let her know the identity of the body above her.  CLU’s enforcer, Rinzler.  Panting, she stared at where she thought his eyes were.  She could see her breath fogging his helmet as he hovered over her.  She wasn’t trying to fight him now, but she was keeping the option to do so open.  She could feel him—unmoving—above her.  While he did not let go of her wrists, he seemed to be waiting.  But what was he waiting for?  She swallowed hard and said, “Please…let me go.”

Her voice sounded small, even to her own ears.  Rinzler seemed to be looking at her.  She would have sworn that she could feel his eyes on her face; had she been asked.  Slowly, he nodded and moved off of her, releasing his hold on her wrists at the same time.

She rolled off of the far side of the bed the moment he released her.  Her eyes shot from one corner of the room to another; looking for some avenue of escape.  She tried to stay towards the middle of the room, not wanting to be trapped in a corner.  Eventually, her attention turned back to the dark figure on the other side of the room.  “Why were you holding me down?” she demanded of Rinzler, glaring at him.

With what seemed like frustration, he pointed to her, and to the disordered bed.

“What?” she said angrily.  “I had a nightmare…so?  You didn’t have to pin me down.  It’s not like I attacked you…”  Her eyes widened as soon as she had said the words.    “Oh, no.  I did, didn’t I?  I attacked you in my sleep.”

Rinzler shrugged his shoulders at her.

“God, I’m so sorry.  I thought…” she pressed the heel of her hand against her forehead before continuing.  “It doesn’t matter.  I’m not used to people grabbing me when I’m asleep.”  She gave him a concerned look and asked, “Are you okay?”

Rinzler shrugged his shoulders again.  His attitude seemed to indicate that getting hurt was not an issue he worried about.

* * *

 

Abruptly the User seemed to wilt as he stood there looking at her.  Her eyes filled with tears as she looked at him.

“It’s true though, isn’t it?” she asked, her voice soft and broken.  Rinzler wasn’t sure what she was referring to until she continued.  “I’ve lost everyone that I knew before.  If I can’t leave and there’s no way to get a message to them….  They are just—gone….  Oh god, what is this going to do to my parents?”

Tears spilled from her eyes and ran down her face.  She tried to take a deep breath, only to have it come in gasps as she appeared to try to keep from sobbing.

Turning away from Rinzler, she went and leaned her head against a wall; hiding her face from his view.  As he watched, the User’s back and shoulders began to shake as choked sobs escaped her.  A short scream that sounded torn from her core came from her throat as she slammed her hand against the wall.

Rinzler realized that this was the first time he had seen or heard true despair from her.  Ripped away from her world, beaten, cut, threatened with her end, and only now did she seem to break at all. 

He wanted to help her in some way…how could he, though?  There was nothing to help him understand this in his coding or his memory files.  What was he supposed to do?  Confused, he walked toward her.  He wasn’t something from her world; however, he might be familiar enough for her to relate to.  At least, familiar enough to recalculate herself in relation to the Grid.  Would it help at all?  Rinzler did not know, however, he hoped it would.  As he drew nearer, he reached out and lightly laid his hand on the back of her shoulder; trying to not startle her.

The last thing that Rinzler had expected was that she would turn and cling to him.  Wrapping her arms around him, she laid her head against his chest and cried.  He could feel the heat of her skin pressed against his circuits, and her breath as she sobbed in harsh gasps against him.  Uncomfortably he tried to ignore the growing pleasure that was being caused by the sensations on his circuits.  He had felt a User against his circuits before, if not in the same context.  Flynn had sometimes pressed their chests together.  Flynn had referred to the interaction as a ‘hug’, and usually wrapped at least one arm around his shoulders as Flynn did so.  However, Flynn’s ‘hugs’ had never lasted more than a picocycle.   Was this the same?  Tentatively, he brought his arms up and wrapped them loosely around the User.  It felt strangely familiar to do so.  Had he ever held someone like this before?  He couldn’t access any memory of having done so.  Maybe it was in one of the partitioned files….  He tried to relax slightly as she continued to sob in his arms.  The User’s sobs slowly quieted until she finally stopped crying.

“Thank you,” she mumbled into his chest.

Rinzler cocked his head at her inquiringly.  What was she thanking him for?

Raising a tear-streaked face to his view, she spoke again.  “You didn’t have to do that.  Thank you.  It helps to feel that someone cares.”

She took a few deep breaths and stepped back.  Wiping her face with the back of her hand, she attempted to compose herself.

“I’m never going to _not_ miss them.  At least I know that they are okay.  Never knowing what happened to me will be the hardest part for my family.”  She gave a sigh.  “Alright, so I’m going to be here for the rest of my life.  I can do that.  I can deal with this.”

She went back over to the bed and began straightening it.  Bending down, she picked up an object from the floor.  Rinzler watched her, curious, as she began twisting her long hair into a rope.  With a few deft moves the User had wrapped and pinned it in place on her head with the item she had found.  She sat down on the bed and looked at him standing there.

“Why don’t you talk?” she asked him abruptly.  “If it wouldn’t have kept me from helping CLU to erase and recode programs, I don’t think you would have talked to me.  As it stands, you do your best to ignore me or just not talk at all.  Is it just that you don’t want to talk to me because I’m a User…or what?”

Trying to ignore her questions, Rinzler went to the window and looked out of it again.

“Would you—just this once—give me a complete answer about _you_?” she asked, exasperated.  When there was no reply of any type from Rinzler; she walked over to where he stood.  She grabbed his shoulder and tried to pull him around to look at her, saying, “I’m serious…answer me!”

At the feel of her pulling on his shoulder, Rinzler turned angrily towards the User.  His distorted electronic growl was loud in her ears as he loomed over her.

She looked steadily at him, trying to look where she thought his eyes were.  “It’s not going to work,” she told him.  “I’ve had too much happen to be intimidated this way right now.  So, would you please answer my question?”

She could feel her heart thumping loudly as she spoke.  She hoped that her bluff worked.  There was nothing that she could really do to make him talk.  Added to that was the fact that having a large, growling, dangerous man this close to her when he was _not_ happy with her question was nerve-wracking.  He had not hurt her since the fight in the arena; however, she was not about to mistake him for something harmless.  He was  _dangerous_.  She had the cut on her face to remind her of that fact. 

“Please,” she asked again, trying to keep her voice steady.  “Please tell me that much about you….”

Rinzler made a noise that sounded like nothing so much as a snarl.  “And who do you think I should talk to?” he demanded savagely.  His voice was an angry growl.  Hearing it, she was reminded of a teased tiger, snarling a warning.

“Your friends, I would think.  I haven’t been here long at all, but I don’t think that you sit down and have long chats with CLU.”

Rinzler let out a short, harsh, barking laugh at that.  He shook his head slightly.  “You have to trust someone for them to be a friend.  And you’re correct.  I do not ‘chat’ with CLU.”

She gave a small frown at what she had just heard.  “You don’t have any friends…at all?” she asked.

Rinzler turned back towards the window.  He raised an arm, resting it on the window above his head.  A moment later he spoke.  “I did, once,” he said, looking out of the window.  “Now…none of them are alive.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice soft.  “It’s hard to lose someone you care about.  It must be very lonely without friends.”  She was silent for a moment.  “Why don’t you trust anyone?  And thank you for talking to me….”

“Can’t,” came the terse reply.  “Can’t trust anyone who answers to CLU.”

She stared at him as he looked out the window; trying to imagine a life with no friends.  The sudden understanding that now—here in this world—she had no friends, either, suddenly hit her like a blow.  A wave of loneliness swept over her. 

“It sounds like you and I have something in common, then,” she told him.

The figure in the window turned its head to regard her.

“Well, I don’t have anyone here, either.  And since you just told me that I can’t trust the other programs…how about if you and I are friends?  I don’t answer to CLU, after all…”

“But I do,” came the growled reply.

“And yet you’ve never lied to me.  At least, I don’t think you have.  So I’m going to trust you.   Still offering to be friends, here…” she said.

“You shouldn’t,” he said, turning to stand facing her.

“Should not—what?  Be friends?  Going to be real lonely if I don’t have at least one friend here.”

“You should not trust me,” he said, his voice flat as he did so.

“Why not?” she asked him, bluntly.

“I have been programmed to obey CLU.  I have to follow any order that he gives me.  _ANY_ order.”  Rinzler stared at the User.  Once she understood that he would hurt her, or even derezz her if CLU gave him the order, she would withdraw the offer of friendship.  It was only logical.  She would understand why he could not be trusted.  A part of his code ached at the thought of having someone that he could trust.  It had been so many cycles since he had trusted anyone.  It would hurt when she no longer wanted to be his friend.  A friend would have eased the loneliness.

“What you just told me is why I DO trust you, Rinzler.  If you hadn’t told me that and I found out later, I wouldn’t be able to trust you as much…if I trusted you at all.  You didn’t have to tell me that, and yet you did.  So, now I know that I can trust you to follow CLU’s orders.  But it looks like I can also trust you to be my friend…if you want to be.”

The featureless helmet was still pointed at her.  “What happens to that friendship the first time CLU orders me to hurt you?” Rinzler asked.  “Or if he orders me to derezz you?”

She looked steadily at him.  “You can try to,” she told him.  “If you do, that is my friend being forced to do something.  It would be _CLU_ hurting both of us; not you hurting me.  And don’t think that I wouldn’t be fighting to keep from being hurt.”  She tilted her head up to get a better look at him.  “Would you still be my friend if I hurt _you_ in those circumstances?”

Rinzler cocked his head at her in surprise at that statement.  Hurt him?  That didn’t seem likely.  Somehow the User seemed to sense his disbelief, because she gave him a small smile and spoke again.

“Hey, it could happen,” she said, shrugging her shoulders.  “I’m not saying that it will, but it’s always a possibility.  I do fight dirty, after all.”

Rinzler looked at her for a long moment.  Finally, he spoke.  “Yes,” he said.

“Yes, I fight dirty?  Or, yes; you and I can be friends?” she questioned.

“Yes, we can be friends.  I do not know what fighting ‘dirty’ is; or how not being clean would factor in a fight.”  He then said, warningly, “CLU must never learn that we are friends.  You do not want him to find out.  He would use that knowledge against us.”

The User nodded in understanding before she grinned up at him suddenly.  “You’re my first friend here,” she told him.  “So, tell me a little about yourself.  What do you do when CLU doesn’t have you babysitting Users?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, gentle readers...  
> Thanks for sticking around so far. I know this isn't my best work; however, I hope you find that it improves as the story goes on. Most of this storyline was written long before 'Finding the Lost', and I had not originally planned on ever posting it. My thanks to those friends and beta's who pushed for me to do so. 
> 
> Feral has not been having an easy time of it in the Grid (those of you who read 'Silent Partner' and 'Finding the Lost' have probably already noticed that I put characters and OC's through the wringer) and while--just as in life--there will be moments that make you smile and hopefully even laugh; there will be...other moments. The ones where you may want to hit me for what I do to them. 
> 
> Please consider this your advance warning. It will get very dark at times. There will be triggers for some people. Bad things will happen. If this is not your cup of tea, you may wish to set this to the side and read one of the other extremely well written works available at AO3. If you want to keep reading, and find that it bothers you to do so...comment. I'm willing to discuss the work; however, I'm not going to stop writing it.


	6. And I Find In You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So, what do you do when CLU doesn't have you babysitting Users?" Time to get to know your new friend, your new world, and deal with CLU  
> Or, how Feral got her name.

“You’re my first friend here,” she said.  “So, tell me a little about yourself.  What do you do when CLU doesn’t have you babysitting Users?”

Rinzler leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms.  “I do not know what babysitting is…” he told her.

“It is when you have to watch over and care for something; like a baby.”

“Yes, but…what is a baby?”  The term sounded familiar; teasing faint memory traces that led to the partition in his code.

“It’s a very small and young User.  Babies are unable to care for themselves, and have to have someone else protect them and see that their needs are met,” she told him.

He made a non-committal sound and gave a short nod of understanding at the explanation.  “I am a security program.  I used to be the head security monitor for the Grid.  Now, my main functions are to protect CLU, fight in the Games, and enforce his orders as well as function as head of Grid security.  If none of the other security programs—such as the BlackGuard—can handle a situation, then I am still called out to do security monitoring functions.”

“Do you like being a security program?” she asked him curiously.

“I did,” he replied honestly.  “I enjoyed knowing that I was keeping the system and its programs safe.  At that time, I rarely had to derezz anything other than gridbugs, viruses, and worms…things such as those.  I was doing what my User programmed me to do.  Now, most millicycles I wish that I did not have all of my coding.  Then I would not have the ability to obey some of CLU’s orders.”

The room was quiet, the faint rumble of his growl—a sound that was almost a vibration to be felt, rather than heard—the only sound for some time.

“I have been wondering,” she said, breaking the near silence, “I thought you were going to kill me in the arena.  Instead, you stopped…and called me a User.  Were you really going to kill me?” she asked, looking at her hands as they lay in her lap.

“I was,” he said.  “I stopped because I realized that you were a User.  My current programming gives my primary objectives as _I fight for CLU_.  Once, however, they were different.  Once, my primary directive was _I fight for the Users_.  I have to follow CLU’s orders,” he continued, “however, if they are not precise enough, I can find loopholes.   In your case, it was the fact that I am programmed to derezz the losing _program_ in the Games arena.  I do not have any orders stating to derezz Users.  Probably because you are the only one to end up in the arena since CLU came to power.  In fact, you are the only one to enter the Grid since that time,” he told her.

“But how did you know I was a User?” she asked intently, looking up at him as she did so.  “No one else knew until after you did.…”

Rinzler sighed.  “It was your face.”

“My face?”  She now felt more confused by his answer than she had before hearing it, at that moment.

“You had blood on your face.  Programs do not bleed.  We don’t have blood.  Only Users have blood, so only Users bleed.”

“But how did you know that Users bleed?” she persisted.  The rumble of his growl grew slightly louder at her question.

In a low, gruff voice he said, “I used to know a User once…he was my friend.  He was injured in a gridbug attack when the Grid was still new.  It worried me when an unknown red liquid came out of him.  He told me it was called ‘blood’; and that Users had to have it to function.  He also warned me that if something happened to cause a User to lose too much of it…they would cease to function.”

“You were friends with another User?” she said, surprise evident in her voice.

Rinzler shifted uncomfortably where he leaned against the wall.  Turning his head, he appeared to be looking away.  A few moments went by in silence before he spoke again.

“It was a long time ago; before CLU came to power,” he said quietly, the words so soft she could barely hear them.  “I would rather not think about it now.”  The low growling noise continued to rumble in the air.

She thought for a moment.  CLU had said that the other Users did not leave the Grid.  His friend must be one of those friends Rinzler had that died, she realized.  No wonder he didn’t want to think about it now.  She went back to her original question.

“Would any other program have realized that I had blood on my face; or what that meant?”  she asked him.

“I do not believe so,” he told her, his voice thoughtful.  “I was the only program there when he was injured.”

“Then it was a good thing for me that you DO have all of your security programming.  If there had been another program there instead, they probably would have killed me.”

Rinzler’s helmet turned back to face as she sat on the bed.  Tilting his head a little in her direction in what she could only guess was a thoughtful or curious look he said, “You might be right.”

She shifted a bit on the bed, which felt like a slab of foam under her, feeling self-conscious about what she was about to ask him.  Nervously fidgeting a bit more, she gave a long sigh. 

“Um, Rinzler?”  There was the tiniest movement of the figure leaning against the wall; just enough to let her know that he had acknowledged hearing her.  “Since you have known a User before, maybe you can answer something for me…?”

Curious as to what she was going to ask, he waited to hear her question.  He could see her squirming a little on the bed, although he had no idea why.  Finally, the User spoke.

“Why don’t I have to go to the bathroom?” she blurted out, looking embarrassed.

Puzzled, Rinzler tried to understand her question; however, he had no context for the query to help him search available memories.  “What is a ‘bathroom’?” he asked her.  “And why would you have to go to one?”

The User’s face reddened slightly at his questions.

"Okay.  Umm, I haven’t eaten since I came to the Grid.  I just drank that blue stuff you gave me.  So, I’m guessing that is what gives you energy here on the Grid.  Am I right?” she asked.

“I gave you energy,” he told her, still confused.

“Right.  Okay…Users in my world eat and drink—or intake solids and liquids—that our bodies have to process to give us energy.”

“That sounds very inefficient,” he said.  “You still have not explained what a ‘bathroom’ is.”

“We’re getting to that point,” she said, her face reddening even more.  “Users eat and drink to get energy.  Not everything that we eat and drink is processed into energy, though.  And many of our body’s functions are meant to remove toxic by-products.  So these by-products are waste, and have to be removed to keep us functioning properly.”

Curious, Rinzler looked at her.  “How do you remove them?” he inquired.  “Can you show me?”

“Uh, no.  I really hope not.”  Still feeling incredibly embarrassed, but determined to get an answer, she continued.  _You can do this_ , she thought to herself, feeling the heat in her face.  _Just think of it as a speech for your old biology class in college.  Just the facts, ma’am._  

“We excrete them in a few different ways,” she told him.  “We exhale gases when we are breathing.  We remove some of it by sweating—we excrete small drops of liquid from our skin.  Large amounts are excreted by other parts of the body as liquids or solids usually this is done privately because it is messy and often smells bad and we call the room that we do this in the bathroom and the process is often called ‘going to the bathroom’.”  She said the last in a rush, trying to get it out before she began stammering from embarrassment.

Rinzler shook his head.  “That sounds extremely inefficient.  We have more useful energy processing in the system. Here, energy is drunk.  I suppose it could be coded to be solid, but why bother? There are no ‘by-products’ of it; it is utilized completely.  I have a runtime that exceeds this system’s and I have never heard of a program needing to _excrete_ anything….”

She let out a breath.  “So, I’m not going to end up having a problem later when I can’t get this suit off.  Makes sense.  Thank God for that…”she muttered under her breath.  “So,” she said her voice a little louder.  “As long as I drink some of that blue stuff, I have all the energy I need for the day?”

‘Day’ must refer to some User-style measurement of time. 

“Maybe,” he told her, shrugging his shoulders.  “You would need more if your energy requirements went up.”

“And if I drink more than I need for that day?”  she inquired.  “What happens then?”

“I don’t know how a User would process an excess of energy.  A program would most likely become overcharged; and could either end up in a good mood and a surplus saved for other functions, or acting dangerously erratic.”

“Mmhhhh, so…either I would store it like fat reserves, or it’s kind of like getting drunk.  I’ll try to be careful about that.”  She looked at him again.  “How about you tell me more about you, and this place; and I’ll tell you about me and my life before here?”

The conversation continued on for most of the millicycle.  The User would ask Rinzler for information about life on the Grid; and told him about herself and her previous life in the User world.  By unspoken agreement, she did not ask him more personal questions; and after being told that she didn’t want to say her User name out loud so that CLU would not find out what it was, he did not ask too-personal questions of her.

She was interested in everything about her new world.  Rinzler was both fascinated and baffled by the world of Users.  Nothing—he declared at one point—made any sense.  It was too illogical.

She was trying to explain User humor to him when he suddenly held out a hand as if to stop her and cocked his head toward the door.  “CLU is coming this way” he told her.

“How can you tell?” she asked wonderingly.

Rinzler turned his head to look at her.  “I am the best security program on the grid,” he said mildly.  “Do not let CLU know that we have been talking, or that we might be friends,” he warned. 

“No problem,” she said.  She flopped down on her back and stretched out over the bed.  Scooting around a little on the bed, she let her head hang over the edge of the bed.  While she could look over at the door, it also looked as though she had been lying there bored.  Rinzler turned his back on her and went to look out of the window.  His whole attitude was one of apparent boredom with the contents of the room; and mild interest in the street and programs below.  A few moments later, the door slid open to admit CLU.

She tilted her head back off of the end of the bed to get a better look at the system’s administrator as he entered the room.

“Well,” she said.  “If it isn’t you.  Come to have another little chat with me?  Since our last one obviously went _so well_.  Feel free.  Your guy over there isn’t much of a talker, after all.”  She motioned towards Rinzler with a wave of her hand.  “Unless you want to count the growling.  Oh, and he did snarl at me at one point.  But otherwise….”  She shrugged, unconcerned.

“No, Rinzler does not talk.  And yet, he always manages to get his point across.  Since his point is whatever I want it to be, I think that it works out well,” CLU said, smirking at her.  “You, however, are a different issue.  I have been trying to decide what to do with you.  I cannot have it known that a User is on the Grid.  That would lead to chaos; and that is simply unacceptable.  So you will become a program.  I will give you a designation to go by; and believe me, you do not want to go against me and tell others that you are a User.  You really would not like the reaction that other programs would have if they learned that fact.”

She gave CLU a look that plainly said she didn’t think highly of him—or his plan.  “And exactly how am I going to be passed off as a program?  I haven’t seen anyone who has white circuits on them like I do.  Not to mention that I don’t know my way around the Grid or anything about it.  If programs do, and I don’t, won’t that lead to questions?  And if I do learn how to get around later; how will that not lead to more questions?  Programs don’t learn completely new things a little at a time, do they?  Isn’t it all or nothing?” she asked, feeling both confused and wanting to wipe that confident smirk off of CLU’s face.

“Oh, it is,” CLU said, still smiling at her.  “But for a new, adaptive program that was glitching so badly its circuits lit up like an ISO’s; being able to access that information in disjointed sections will be understandable.  And don’t worry; you will be able to stay close enough to the system admin program to deal with any severe ‘glitches’ in your processing.”

She rolled over and sat up on the bed.  Looking at CLU warily she said, “What do you mean, I’ll be close enough?”

“You will stay near me at all times.  I tell you to do something, you will do it.  If asked, you _want_ to be near me.  You will be the only adaptive program on the Grid…and you will be mine.”

She glared at him angrily.  “You mean I’ll be some sort of pet,” she snapped, irritation evident in her voice.  “One, I’m not a program.  Two, I’m not anybody’s ‘pet’ anything.  No, I don’t think that plan is going to work for you.”

“I think it will,” CLU told her, drawing closer to where she sat on the bed.  “You will make a lovely pet, too.”  He reached out his hand to touch her face.  “In fact, I think I will call you ‘Kitten’.  That is a User pet type, is it not?” 

CLU drew his hand back, hissing in pain.  She had gone from glaring angrily at him to suddenly snapping her head forward and biting his hand as it neared her face.  Small pixels fell glittering like cut glass beads from the bite she had given him.  He looked at his hand, hiding his surprise at what had happened.  Even his memory files from his User had not led him to expect that. 

CLU looked back at the User, trying to control his anger.  “I think you need a little taming still,” he said.  “You seem to be a bit feral for my new pet.  Hmm, yes, Feral seems to suit you much better.”   

“Rinzler,” CLU called over his shoulder.  “Get her disc for me.”

Rinzler stepped forward from where he had been standing near the wall.  He had been waiting to see if CLU would give him an order since the administrator program’s arrival.  Going to where the User sat on the bed, he removed her disc and gave it to CLU with his customary short bow of his head.  Stepping to the side, he appeared to be waiting patiently for CLU to give him the next order.

She scooted further back until she was sitting at the head of the bed.  “Not going to do you any good,” she said grumpily; leaning back against the wall with a ‘thump’ and crossing her arms over her chest.  “User, remember?  I don’t have any programming that you can change.”

CLU merely glanced up at her for a moment and went back to accessing her disc.  He seemed to be ignoring her completely.  Every so often he would look thoughtful and then do something with her disc.  She wished that she had some idea of what he was up to.  The women before the arena had said something about memories being stored on the disc.  She desperately hoped that he was not looking through them now.  If he did, CLU would find out about her offer of friendship and conversations with Rinzler.  She began to loudly mutter about ‘stupid programs messing with things that they couldn’t change’.  If she distracted him enough, he might not bother trying to access her memories.

CLU suddenly smiled brightly and snapped his fingers.  Beckoning Rinzler over, he gave him her disc.  “Put this where it belongs,” he said to the security program.

Rinzler took the disc in his hands, giving CLU another slight bow of the head as he did so.  Walking back to the bed, he took her shoulder and used it to pull her away from the wall.  Once her disc dock was accessible, he put her disc in place.  A shock went through her as it connected and synced up with her.  “Ow,” she said, loudly.  “What was that about?”

“You may be right about not being able to program a User,” CLU told her, his voice smug, “but your circuits and clothing are from the Grid.  Those I _CAN_ reprogram.  Do not worry; I am sure you will look just fine in orange.”

“So I’ll match ‘Tall, silent, and threatening’ over there?” she asked, pointing in Rinzler’s direction.  “Not really my favorite color.  Don’t you have blue or green?” she said derisively.

“Not blue,” CLU said sharply.  “I will make sure that you will never have blue circuits.”

“What do you have against blu—“ her voice broke off sharply as she yelped.  The lines on her suit; the ‘circuits’ had suddenly heated to burning hot.  The white blazed so bright that it blotted out her vision, and then started to fade.  She looked at her darkened suit in confusion.  A feeble glow began to show on her suit where her ‘circuits’ had been.  She held out her hands in front of her to see it better.  The glow steadily grew stronger until they stood out against the black of her suit.  And they were the same unmistakable red-orange as Rinzler’s.

CLU strode over to where she sat looking unhappily at her new orange circuits.  “Let me see how well this worked,” he said, reaching out to look at the pendant on her collar necklace.  “Yes, that looks much better.”

Her gaze dropped to follow his and she realized that even the collar and the pendant that CLU was holding now glowed orange as well.

“What did you do to me?” she shrieked; glowering angrily at CLU.

“I made a few improvements,” he told her smugly.  “Now you can wear you designation like a proper pet.  Is that not what Users do so that if their pet is ever lost, it can be easily returned?  Much better than that foolishness that you used to wear on it.”  With that said he released his hold on the pendant and turned away.  He started to walk towards the door, motioning for Rinzler to follow him as he walked.  “Rinzler will be returning to his regular duties, so you will not have to worry about his growl.  Get some rest, ‘ _program’_.  Your new runtime on the Grid will begin soon.”

CLU stopped and looked over at her from the doorway, his hand on the door frame.  “Oh, and it seems I was right.  You do look just fine in orange.”  With that said, he turned away and left; the door closing behind him.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally written to be a much longer chapter; however, in typing it up I noticed something.
> 
> It stank.  
> More than half of it was pointless and only dragged at the storyline; so I cut out the dead weight, chucked it out the window, and hopefully filled in the needed areas with something worth the time you spent reading it.


	7. All Along The Watchtower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There must be some way out of here....
> 
> Song List: 'Mission: Impossible' theme song  
> 'All Along The Watchtower" by Bob Dylan

She stared at the closed door after the two programs left.  Anger and frustration bubbled within her like a pot of boiling water.  She wanted to scream and throw things.

No, what she _REALLY_ wanted was to tackle CLU to the ground and _BEAT_ that smug smile off of his face.  The visual she had at that thought was immensely satisfying.

His pet!?  He wanted her to be his freakin’ pet?!   Not a chance.  CLU may have been able to turn Rinzler into some kind of trained attack dog; but there was no way she would ever be his ‘kitten’.  Exhausted, she lay down and tried to take a nap.  There was a way out somehow.  There had to be.  At least, a way out of CLU’s reach.  She just had to find it.

* * *

 

When she woke, she could see the Grid dark outside the window.  CLU and Rinzler were nowhere to be seen.   She got off of the bed and went over to the window.  Looking down, she could see a few programs moving around.  More seemed to be congregating near an area that was brightly lit a little further away from the building that she was currently in.  She started thinking.  How could she get out of here?  If she could get out of the building and into the crowd, she might be able to disappear.  Maybe start a new life out of CLU’s reach.  Who knew?  In time maybe Rinzler could get away, too.  They could meet up and leave this area of the Grid.  This could be her best chance; after all, no one seemed to be planning to prevent an escape attempt. IF she could manage to get out of the building.

Okay, she thought, the first step is to get out of the room.  How?  She took a closer look at the window, checking for ledges.  There was a small ledge to walk or stand on outside the window; but it jutted straight out into the air.  There was nothing that she could jump or climb to.  A straight drop down was all that could be seen of what might be below it.

Alright then, the window was out.  It would have to be the door.  She walked over to the door to the room--which was on the opposite wall as the window—and stared at it in frustration.  How was she supposed to manage to open a locked door on the Grid?

She continued to stand looking at the door for several minutes, her fingers drumming on the door frame as she thought.  In the back of her mind she realized that she was drumming her fingers in time to the music that she heard playing…’All Along The Watchtower’.  “There must be some way out of here…” Bob Dylan was singing.  Her mouth twisted up in a wry smile.  Well, Dylan was right; there must be some way out…but what was it?

The idea hit her like a shock.  Instinctive.  CLU had said that she was accessing the Grid somehow; maybe instinctively.  Could it work…?

Closing her eyes, she placed her hand on the door frame.  Trying to get the thoughts as clear as she could in her mind; she focused on the idea of the door’s code appearing on the frame.  Please, let it have worked, she thought desperately.  She took a deep breath, let it out, and opened her eyes.  Under her finger tips was what looked like a touch screen.  On it was what she recognized as line of code.  Years of having programmers as friends meant that—while she couldn’t program—at least she could recognize coding when she saw it now.

“Thank you,” she murmured under her breath.  She closed her eyes again to concentrate and thought of the display changing to a picture of a lock with a key in it.  She slowly opened her eyes…and let out a shaky laugh.  There it was; a lock with a key!

She placed her fingertips on the ‘key’ display, and turned it.  The visual display of the lock opened on the screen.

“Yes!” she said triumphantly.  “Got you!”  She realized that the music had changed, and was now playing the ‘Mission: Impossible” theme song.  Out loud she said, “Look, I really don’t mind having my life come with a personalized sound track; but I can’t afford to get caught because someone hears music.  So, please…no music while I’m sneaking around.  Please?  I don’t know how this works…but I need to now have any extra sound for a while; okay?”  I am talking to the air, she thought, and I think that somehow the Grid or whatever is paying attention.

Abruptly the music stopped.  She let out the breath that she had been holding; and—satisfied with the silence—turned her attention back to the door.  Alrighty, she thought, that’s the lock dealt with.  Now for opening the door itself.

Placing her fingertips back on the screen, she visualized the door itself.  What looked like a line drawing of the door appeared on the screen.  Mentally, she told the door to slide open; the way it had for CLU and Rinzler earlier.  The door slid open with a near-silent hiss, revealing the empty hallway beyond.

This was it.  Live up to the motto of not giving up; or go sit down and wait for someone else to decide her life.  CLU would no doubt come for her or send someone in his place.  Letting out a long, shaky breath, she leaned her head out of the doorway and looked up and down the corridor outside.

 The stark emptiness of the hallway seemed like one of the most beautiful things that she had ever seen.  Slipping out into the hall, she turned to the left and started walking quickly down the corridor.  She tried to keep to the left side of the hallway so as to be able to see anyone approaching before she attracted their attention.  At the end of the long hallway, the hall branched off in both directions.  Choosing to go to the left again, she soon found herself looking at a door that was opening.  She could hear voices through the door as it opened.  Ducking into a doorway, she tried to stay calm.  They might not even come this way, she told herself.  There was no need to panic yet.  She let out a silent sigh of relief as the programs that came through the door turned and went down another hallway.  Slipping back out of the doorway that she had ducked into, she looked at the still open door.  It was an elevator.

“Somebody likes me,” she whispered to herself, giving a little smile as she did.  She stepped inside the elevator and accessed its controls in the same way that she had with the door for Rinzler’s room.  A schematic of the elevator in relation to the building it was in came up on the screen.  Touching the small pixel of light that appeared to be the elevator—she drew her finger down, sliding the elevator until it reached the base of the building schematic.  The door slid closed, and she felt a surge of defiant pleasure at the thought of how close she was to escaping.  She could feel the slight vibration through the soles of her feet as the elevator started to descend.  A few moments later, the sense of movement stopped.  The door to the elevator slid open.  She started down the hall that lay empty and waiting before her.  The thought that all she had to do was to find the door that led out threatened to overwhelm her.  So close…  If she didn’t find the door going this direction, all she would need to do would be turn around and go the opposite way.  She turned the corner in the hall, and her heart skipped a beat—then started racing.  Oh no, no, no, no, no….”she thought.

At the end of the hallway stood the door that she had been searching for.  And CLU and Rinzler had just walked through it; followed by a small group of black-clad guards.  CLU was not looking in her direction; but seemed to be giving orders to another program holding what looked like a clip board.

“Back up!” her brain screamed at her.  “Back up and turn around!”  Almost without noticing that she was doing it; she began to step backwards, trying to watch the approaching group at the same time.  Turning, she started to run back the way she had just come from.  If she outran them, she might be able to circle the building back to the door and escape that way.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw CLU’s head snap up and realized that he had seen her.  As she ran she could hear CLU’s shouted voice echo down the hall as he ordered the guards to go after her.  Maybe she could get in the elevator, she thought, putting on a burst of speed as she ran.  She could hide from them if she could get to the elevator in time.  She turned the corner and ran to the elevator, only to find that its door was closed.  She slapped her hand against it in frustration.

‘Where to now?’ she thought franticly.  She looked around wildly and spotted another corridor.  Bolting down the new corridor she tried to get far enough ahead that she could find a place to hide from the guards.  The sound of pounding feet was growing louder as the guards drew closer told her that would not work as a plan.  She put on a final burst of speed; pushing herself to run faster and further than she had thought possible, and turned the next corner.

It was a dead end.  Desperately she tried to access the doors along the walls.  The shouts of ‘halt’ from the guards told her that she had run out of time.  She whirled to face the guards and reached back to grab her disc.

The guards slowed as they came closer to her, cautious of the spinning disc in her hand.  Two of the guards held what looked like police batons—or nightsticks—in each hand, while the other three were carrying some sort of staff each.  They looked at her as she waited, standing at the end of the hall like an animal brought to bay.  The guards then looked at each other, and without saying a single word, the three guards with the staffs moved in closer. 

She shot her gaze from one guard to another as she stood there with her disc spinning in her hand.  She didn’t know if she could take three guards at once in hand-to-hand combat.  Actually, she thought that she probably couldn’t’; however, she didn’t dare to throw her disc.  If one of the guards got a hold of it and gave it to CLU, the administrator would learn about her beginning a friendship with Rinzler.  No matter what CLU would want to do to her, she knew that he would find an uglier punishment for Rinzler.

Well, she would just have to give it everything that she had.  With luck, she would still get out of here.  She leapt forward and to the side, attacking not the nearest guard, but the one behind him.  Slashing at him with her disc, she ducked to blow that she anticipated from the first guard.  The guard that she had attacked was caught unawares; bringing his staff up too late to block the slicing blow across his chest.  She tried to ignore him as he collapsed into a cascade of pixels and turned her attention to the first guard, who was now behind her.  Bringing her forearm up, she managed to block a blow from his staff.  She was trying to get further back when the third staff-wielding guard—whom she had almost forgotten about—moved in from the side.  She blocked a blow from him with her disc.  Unfortunately for her, this left her side open to attack from the first guard.  He jabbed the end of his staff into her side. 

She dropped to her knees as an electric shock ran through her, feeling like a puppet with some of its strings cut.  Clutching at her disc with suddenly weak fingers, she tried to slice at the legs of the guard nearest to her.  She received another jabbing blow—this time to her shoulder—for making the attempt.  Her disc fell to the floor, dropped by a hand that was no longer under her control.  Her fingers spasmed as she tried to keep herself from falling flat on her face on the floor.  She saw a hand reaching towards her.  Growling like an animal, she tried to knock it away with a hand that was strangely clumsy. 

At her move, the two guards with batons in their hands moved in closer.  As soon as she was within their reach, they began raining blows on her back and shoulders.  She screamed at them in pain and anger as their strikes beat her still unsteady body to the floor.  When she could no longer attempt to rise or block their blows, they grabbed her by the arms and pulled her to her knees.

One of the remaining guards with a staff derezzed his helmet and bent closer to her head.  Curious as to why there was so much trouble and bother over this program, he tried to lift her face to get a better look at her. 

When her face was raised enough for her to see his eyes, she slammed her head forward; head-butting him.  She felt a slight sense of satisfaction at the thin glowing crack across his nose and the trickle of pixels now leaking from it.

“Stupid glitch,” the guard said in an almost snarl, his voice thick.  He raised his staff to jab her again when the other staff-wielding guard put out a hand to restrain him.

“Do not strike her again,” he warned, “you might burn out some of her circuits.  CLU’s orders said no permanent damage.”

Grumbling under his breath, the guard lowered his staff and motioned to the guards holding her.  “Let’s get her back to the Leader,” he snapped.  “If she cannot walk, drag her.”

The two guards holding her arms lifted her slightly give her the chance to regain her feet.  She tried to stand, and almost fell; stumbling when they began marching briskly down the corridor, back the way she had run earlier.  She managed to keep her feet under her for the first few steps.  Then her strength gave out and she tripped and fell.  They dragged her the rest of the way, never slowing enough for her to try to stand or walk again.  When they finally stopped, she hung limply between them, exhausted.  A guard came up behind her and replaced her disc—which the guard had been carrying—on her back.  Panting, she hung there gazing at the floor.  A pair of black boot with thick yellow-gold circuits walked into her view.  A moment later, a hand reached out and grasped her chin; lifting it until her eyes met those CLU’s blue ones.

“I think that you will regret this little attempt to leave without my permission, _program_ ,” he told her.

She tried to grin at him, tasting blood in her mouth from one of the blows she received earlier as she did so.  “No, I don’t think I will,” she said.  “Failing, maybe.  But the attempt itself?  Not a chance.  Why don’t you make it easier on yourself and turn me loose?”

CLU sighed.  “Obviously you will need a more tangible reminder of why you should do as I tell you.  Rinzler…follow.”  Looking at the guards holding her, he told them, “Bring her along.”  CLU turned and strode to the elevator.

A few minutes later she found herself being dragged down the same hallway that she had originally started from.  CLU led the small group to a door that opened at their approach.  Beyond it lay what looked like the arena she had first fought in, only smaller.  CLU motioned for the guards to bring her inside.  “Leave her,” he told them, “and go back to your duties.”  The guards released her arms, causing her to drop none-too-gently to the floor.  They then turned and left, leaving her alone with CLU and Rinzler.

CLU walked casually around her, his black and yellow-gold cloak bright against the gray walls and floor of the small room.  Finally, he stopped in front of her and crouched down to face her as she raised herself to her hands and knees.  CLU sighed again and spoke.

“I had hoped that you would be more reasonable.  I should have known better than to expect that from a program like you.  You are—without a doubt—a very stubborn program.  I am afraid that you will require a more physical method of persuasion to get you to follow orders.”

She glared back at him.  “We both know that I’m not a program, CLU.  That hasn’t changed just because you say so.”

He smiled at her.  “Oh, but it has, program.  It has.  You seem to require some more convincing of that fact, however.  Rinzler…” he called over his shoulder to the tall security program standing behind him.  “I want you to show our newest program here just what happens to programs that do not follow orders.  Oh, and Rinzler…” he added, “Do not permanently disable or injure her.  I want her to be useful in the future.   And it would be a shame to mar that face more than it has been already.”  With that said CLU went to the side of the room and leaned casually against the wall.  He looked on as Rinzler stalked towards her from where he had been standing at attention.

“Remember, no disc,” CLU called from where he lounged.  “And you can disarm her at any time….”

She struggled to her feet from where she had fallen earlier.  She pulled her disc from her back.  “Don’t think that I’m just going to stand here while he beats on me,” she said, warningly.  “Not going to make things that easy, CLU.”

“I am counting on that,” came the smug voice of CLU in reply.  “I would not find it entertaining if you did.”

And then, all she could see was the dark form of Rinzler before her. 

His growl was louder than she had ever heard from him before.

* * *

 

Rinzler walked back to where the User lay, crumpled on her side on the floor of CLU’s private training arena.  He would need to check her injuries this time, no doubt.  From the condition the guards had brought her back to CLU in, she had most likely received more injuries that the ones he had just inflicted.

As soon as he was within her reach, her hand reached out and clutched at his leg.  He stopped and looked down; puzzled as to why she had done so.

“Take my disc off,” he heard her say.  She continued, “Before you growl or snarl or whatever it is you do instead of talking…take my disc off.  Please.  I would, but I can’t reach it right now.”  Her face looked up at his, pleading for him to understand…what?”

Feeling confused, Rinzler knelt down next to her and gently removed her disc.  Setting it to the side, he turned back to where she was trying to push herself up off of the floor.  “Why remove the disc?” he asked her.  She continued to try to get up on her own.  “Stay put until I can examine your injuries,” he said, putting out his hand to stop her.  “Why did you want your disc off?”

She glanced in his direction.  “Memories of what you do are only saved if you are in contact with your disc, am I right?” she asked him.

“Yes,” he replied, still confused by her actions.  “Unless you are syncing up with a new disc.  Then it will download all memory onto your disc at that time.”

“Then…if I’m not touching it, it can’t record what we talk about.  Or even that we _are_ talking.  We can be friends without me worrying about CLU accessing my memories and finding out.”

“Clever,” he said thoughtfully.  “And a program would not want to lose contact with their disc, because they could not access memories afterwards if they went into stand-by_, sleep_, or shut-down_modes.  Good plan.”

“Thanks,” she said, exhausted.  “Glad to know you like it.  Told you I fight dirty….”

Trying to ignore the strange saying that she used, Rinzler concentrated on the issue at hand.  “I need to check you for injuries,” he told her again.  “Do you feel pain anywhere?”

“Um, everywhere?” she ventured. 

“I am serious,” Rinzler said, exasperated.  “I may have seriously damaged you, not to mention what the guards did.”

“I’m serious, too,” she replied.  “I hurt pretty much everywhere.  Look, I’m not bleeding, I don’t think I have any broken bones…I’m probably okay.”

“Probably?  Can you not run a self-diagnostic and KNOW?” he asked.

She looked up at him in frustration from where she still lay on the floor.  “Look, I’ve done the closest thing to that I can do while lying here fully clothed.  And I don’t think that this suit comes off.”

“It does,” Rinzler said.  “It is the same as changing the shape of your suit.”

“Ya’know…I didn’t get an instruction manual when I got here.  How about you just assume that if you haven’t told me or showed me about it…I don’t know it,” she said sounding frustrated.  “You’ll be right every time.  Okay?  Now, when can I get up?  This floor isn’t comfortable, and I hurt.”

Feeling more concerned after hearing her say that she was hurting, Rinzler tried to concentrate once more on making sure that she would be alright.  Holding her disc in front of her, he showed her how to access her suit settings and what would change them.  “This causes more coverage, including grid armor.  This reduces suit coverage.  A little takes away grid armor; all of it will cause your suit to derezz.  You need to reduce the coverage enough for me to get a good look at you,” he said handing her disc back to her.

She took the disc in hand.  “Okay, then this should do it…” she said, changing the suit setting.

Rinzler watched as her suit derezzed in some areas; leaving her arms, legs, and most of her back and midriff bare.  But that was not what caused him to draw back from her.

“What?” she demanded, frowning.  “What’s wrong?”

“You don’t have any circuits,” he said incredulously. 

She looked at him, puzzled.  “Of course I do.  You saw them on my suit just a few seconds ago, remember?”

He shook his head.  “No, _under_ your suit.  You don’t have any circuits showing.  The circuits on a program’s suit match up with the circuits on their bodies.  Is this normal for Users?”

“Well, yeah.  We’ve got nerves, which are sort of like circuits—I guess—but they don’t match up with what we are wearing,” she told him.  “So, check me out if you’re going to do it.  I want to get off of this floor.”

Rinzler nodded and began examining her.  She had bruises forming all over her body to go with the ones that were now fading to yellow and brown—they must have been inflicted during the Games, he thought—and two burn marks from a discharged staff.  The skin had broken open over a few of the bruises over her upper back and shoulders.  She lay on her stomach, where he had helped her to turn so he could check her back.  Running his fingers lightly over them, he heard her draw her breath in a hiss of discomfort.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Guards with some sort of baton thingies—like a police nightstick.  I wasn’t co-operating at the time,” she told him in a tight voice.

Rinzler let out a small grunt of agreement.  “I am beginning to think that you do not _EVER_ co-operate,” he told her.

“Not with them, anyhow,” she said, agreeing with him.

He ran his hands lower down her back, checking for more cuts or bruises.  His fingers brushed across her lower back, just above what was left of her suit.  He stopped in surprise.  “I didn’t know User circuits looked like this…” he said, surprise evident in his voice.

“What are you talking abo—aahhh—“  her breath caught as her back arched involuntarily as his fingers ran over the back of her hips.

Rinzler looked down in surprise at the ‘circuits’ that were now glowing bright white against her skin. 

“What did you just do?” she asked him in an odd, strained-sounding voice.

“I just touched your circuits; and now they are glowing,” he said, bewildered.  “Do all User circuits do that?”

“Let me see,” she said, making a small, muffled sound of pain as she twisted to look back over her shoulder.  “Hey, awesome!  I wouldn’t have thought that they would glow here…”  She seemed pleased for some reason.

“Is that normal?   For your circuits to not glow—and then just start glowing?” he asked. 

  
“Those aren’t circuits,” she said.   “They’re my tattoos.  It’s a permanent mark that some Users choose to have applied to them.  Usually they have different meanings for different people.”

Rinzler nodded his head.  “But why did they not glow, and then start glowing?” he asked her, still confused. 

“I have no idea.  They’re only supposed to glow under UV light.  I don’t know if UV light even exists here.”

She looked up at him from over her shoulder.  “Were they glowing when you first saw them?” she asked.

He shook his head.  “No, they looked like an ISO’s white circuit lines except they weren’t glowing.  They started to glow after I touched them,” he answered.

“Then I have no idea why they started glowing.  I guess it’s a Grid thing.  Umm, they seem to be a little…sensitive.  Maybe you shouldn’t touch them right now?” she ventured, trying not to blush at the thought of just HOW sensitive they had been.  It had been a while since she had felt that way at the touch of someone’s hand. Rinzler merely nodded his agreement as he moved farther down her; checking her legs and leg joints for injuries.  He was examining her ankle when she heard him say in his gravelly voice, “I am sorry for this….”

She looked down at her ankle.  It was swollen and looked bruised in his large, gloved hands.  He had kicked her leg out from under her earlier in the fight, twisting her ankle as he did so.  Understanding dawned on her.  He wasn’t just saying he was sorry about her ankle.

“It’s okay,” she told him.   “I learned before this that I can take a hit.  I’ll heal.”

“It is not ‘okay’, as you put it.” Rinzler reached out and cupped her cheek, brushing his thumb just under the still healing cut across her face.  “I did this.  I did all of this to you,” he said.  “Now how much do you want to be friends, knowing that this is likely to happen over and over again?”

She reached up and caught his hand.  She pulled it away from her face and held it.  Looking at where she thought his eyes where behind the visor, she spoke.  “You also took care of me, didn’t kill me when anyone else here would have done so, and are my friend.  Do you not want to be my friend because I fought back?  I may have given you one or two bruises when I hit your fist and feet with the rest of me.…” 

Rinzler pulled his hand away.   “That is not funny.  And it is not the same,” he said.  “You were fighting to protect yourself.  You did not have a choice.”

“And you did?  You were fighting because you have been programmed to follow CLU’s orders.  Not because it was your choice.  So, can I get up now?”

“Yes, you can get up,” he told her.  “You have no serious injuries…for a program.  I think that you will be okay.”

She grunted slightly.  “Told you, I’ll heal.”

“I still need to clean those burns.  Hold still,” he warned.  “This will not be pleasant.”

“Never is,” she muttered under her breath. 

Rinzler was almost finished cleaning the angry, reddened energy-discharge burns a few minutes later when she asked him a question.  “Rinzler, does the Grid have a visual language?”

“We have binary,” he replied, trying to finish cleaning the last burn.

“No, not something that can be written or printed,” she said.  “I mean more along the concept of a language made up of gestures.  Like you would make with your hands.”

“There is nothing like that on the Grid,” he told her, wondering why she was asking.

“So, CLU would not have any frame of reference to relate to if he saw someone using a language like that?  He wouldn’t be able to figure out what they were saying?” she asked, starting to sound excited.

“No, I do not believe that anyone here on the Grid could do that,” he told her.

“Well, I know one,” she said.  “And I can teach it to you.  If we have things we need to say around CLU, he would not know that we are communicating, or what we were saying.  I can teach you sign language…if you want.”

“This ‘sign language’; this would be the gestures that you spoke of?” he asked.

“Well, yes.  We don’t have a lot of time; however, I can teach you the signs for ‘yes’, ‘no’, ‘true’, and ‘false’ now,” she offered.  “I mean, if you want to learn it.”

“Show me these signs,” he told her.

She sat up with his help and began demonstrating the signs; naming each sign as she did so.  “It’s not much now,” she told him, “but at least you will be able to ask me if something I say or do is the truth or not.”

“It is a start,” he said gravely.  “You will show me more of these ‘signs’ later.  Unfortunately, I have to take you to CLU’s quarters now.  I would recommend re-rezzing the rest of your suit.”

“You have the right idea there, I think,” she said.  She sighed and rerezzed most of her suit, leaving off the grid armor for the moment.  Rinzler offered her a hand getting up. 

“Can you walk?” he asked her. 

“Go slowly and I can limp along,” she replied.

He nodded and passed her a vial of energy.  She didn’t see where he had produced it from. “Here,” he told her.  “I was planning on giving you this the next time I saw you.  I just did not expect you to be running down the corridor at the time,” he added wryly.

“Thanks,” she said, gratefully taking the vial.  She opened it up and quickly drank the contents. 

“Why does CLU keep calling me a program?” she asked Rinzler as he led her towards the door.

“When CLU changed your circuit color, he also changed the way you relate with other programs.  Everything but the Grid now responds to you the way it would to a program.”  His blank helmet turned towards her as he looked at her.  “You should be careful.  Even knowing that you are a User, _I_ relate to you like I would with another program.  It means that I am not as safe for you to be near as I was before.”

She gave him a small smile and turned her head to get a better look at him.  “Not to be unkind; but you never seemed that safe for me to be near earlier, Rinzler.”

The two of them fell silent as the door opened.  Taking her arm, Rinzler appeared to lead her down the hallway.  In reality, she was grateful for the secret support he offered as she limped along beside him.  In a short time, they   were in front of CLU’s quarters.


	8. Dangerous Pet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CLU's decided to keep a pet. This one might prove to be more difficult to handle than he was expecting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song list: 'Angry Johnnie' by Poe

Rinzler pressed _something_ along the doorframe to notify CLU of their arrival.  Not for the first time since entering the Grid, she wished that she could tell what someone was doing.  It would make so many things easier for her, she thought.  Apparently, whatever he had done had the desired effect; because she could hear CLU’s voice call out, “Enter.”

The room that the door opened to reveal would have held three of the room she had been kept in previously.  Much like Rinzler’s quarters, one wall was made up almost entirely of a floor-to-ceiling window.  A balcony extended out from the window for half of the length of the room.  She wasn’t sure how one would use it; as she couldn’t see a door to the balcony.  The other side of the room held a large armchair, a desk and desk chair, and a large four-poster bed.  The entire room was black and grey—like Rinzler’s—but had small touches of bright yellow here and there; and running along the floor and walls.  CLU’s colors, she thought to herself.  With all of the programs she had seen so far—the guards, soldiers, the programs in the arena and from the window; she had seen no one else with yellow circuits.

CLU looked up from where he was apparently examining some sort of small, glowing yellow circle or ring in his hands.  A matching ring was partially embedded in one of the bedposts next to where CLU was standing.  “You’re here.  Good,” CLU said, smiling.   “I was beginning to worry about you, Feral.”

Feral?  She shot a questioning look at CLU and then Rinzler.  Who was CLU talking about?  Was Feral a nickname CLU used for Rinzler?

CLU noticed her look.  He laughed.  “No need to be so confused,” he told her.  “It is your new designation, program.  I preferred ‘Kitten’; but Feral seems more…apt, for you.”

“I.  Am not.  A program.” She all but spit the words at him.

“That’s my girl,” CLU said, laughing again.  “Feral; just like I said.  And you need to accept the fact that now, you ARE a program.”  He motioned for Rinzler to bring her closer to where CLU stood by the bed.  “Since I cannot risk my new pet deciding to run loose on the Grid on her own again, this will have to do,” he said, fastening the quarter-sized ring in his hand to the collar around her neck. 

She was confused at his actions for a moment, until a glowing cable appeared, connecting the two rings.  She grasped it where it hung from the ring on her collar and tugged.  The cable was close to twelve feet long and as thick as her little finger.  And it wasn’t giving at all when she pulled on it.  It was a leash.  CLU had just put a leash on her….  The collar she wore had never felt like anything more than a necklace that she liked, until this moment.  Now, she would have cheerfully ripped it off and thrown it so far away it could never be found—if she had any idea of how to take it off here on the Grid.  She hadn’t even had the key with her when she went down into the basement.

Rinzler watched from behind the blank blackness of his helmet as Feral raised her face to CLU’s.  Her eyes and expressions were as hard as the surface of the Grid itself, and far colder than anything that Rinzler had found in the system. 

“You’re going to keep me tethered to your bed; on a leash?” she asked CLU.  “I would strongly suggest that you reconsider this move.  It will not end the way you want it to….”  A woman’s voice floated on the air, singing to someone named ‘Johnnie’.

CLU walked over to the armchair and sat down.  He was smiling as he looked up at her; the satisfaction in his blue eyes almost tangible.  “Tell me,” he said, “how this is not going to end the way I want.  I have my pretty little pet near me, just the way I want.  I do not have to worry about you escaping or getting loose and exploring the Grid on your own, just the way I want.  And in time, I believe that this will help you to learn your new place.  Just.  The way.  I want.”  CLU grinned at her.  “Give it some time, Feral.  You will learn how things work here.  You will learn your new place on the Grid.  You may even come to like it.”

Rinzler could hear the cold anger in her voice as she replied.  “I doubt very much that I will ever like it,” she said.  “I doubt that ‘my new place’ is meant to be as your pet.  Again, I suggest you reconsider what you are doing."  

Rinzler glanced over at CLU, who seemed amused instead of concerned, by her words.  Did CLU not hear the threat in Feral’s voice?  She did not have much left to lose.  If asked, Rinzler would have classified her as a threat.  CLU was right to name her ‘Feral’, Rinzler thought.  She might have been tame, once; but on the Grid, she was an unknown factor.  CLU was still watching her with amusement.  Obviously he did not consider her to be a threat any longer.

“You will not be able to access any coding here,” he told her, his voice smug.  “Every item in my quarters can only be accessed by me.  _Nothing_ in here will give you or any other program its coding access as long as I function.  Now, I still have work to do.”  CLU picked up a tablet from the small table next to the armchair he sat in.  “Rinzler,” he said absently, “you may return to your quarters for now.  Your normal duties will resume at this time.” 

Rinzler gave a slight bow of his head to CLU to acknowledge the order and turned to leave.  As he did so, he glanced at Feral; who had sat down on the floor near the foot of CLU’s bed.  The look on her face was calculating as she watched CLU.  She looks as though she is waiting, Rinzler thought to himself.  But what was she watching and waiting for?  The thought continued to bother him, even as he tried to rest later in his quarters.

 

* * *

 

She had been sitting at the foot of the bed for what felt like hours, a song playing over and over as she watched CLU and thought about everything that he had said to her.  She was still furious, and was having a hard time appearing calm.  The answer seemed to be in the song that continued to sing, “…I can do it with my own two hands…” 

She made the decision about what to do.  Now, she felt it was just a waiting game.  The time to act would come.  She would be ready when it did.

Finally, CLU stood up and set aside the tablet that he had been working on.  He stretched slightly and looked over at where she was sitting.  CLU reached for his disc and changed his suit settings until he suit derezzed in some places and morphed in others.  Now he was wearing only what looked like a loose-fitting pair of pajama pants.  “I am going to have my sleep cycle,” he told her.  “You can spend the night where you are on the floor; or you can share the bed like a well-trained pet.”  Appearing to ignore her afterwards, CLU lay down on the bed and stretched out.  He dimmed the room’s lights with a verbal command and appeared to close his eyes.  A few moments later, CLU gave an inward smile to himself.  He watched through barely open eyes as Feral climbed warily onto the end of the bed. 

Just the way he wanted it, indeed.  A little time on the leash, and already his new pet was starting to come to his heel.  At this rate, it would not be long before she would do whatever he told her to do.  Then, he would finish perfecting the Grid.  Still smiling to himself, he entered his sleep cycle.

 

* * *

 

 

“CLU….”  The voice was soft, barely disturbing his sleep cycle. 

“CLU.”

“CLU, you need to be awake now,” said the voice, soft and patient.  “CLU…”

CLU opened his eyes to find a figure crouched over his chest.  Feral knelt with a knee on the bed next to him.  Her disc was spinning at his throat.

“Don’t move, CLU,” Feral said softly.  “I have this very close to you; and I want you to function just a little longer.”  She was right that her disc was close to him.  He was surprised that it had not burned him already from the heat radiating off of the edge of the spinning disc.

“Feral,” CLU said, just as softly.  “What do you think you are doing, program?”

“I’m going to leave, CLU,” she told him calmly, the barest hint of a smile on her lips.  “I’m going to leave and disappear.  The only reason that I haven’t derezzed you yet is so that you can reset Rinzler’s coding back to his original base code.  I will not have him tracking me later.”

“And you think that I recoded him?”  CLU asked, raising one eyebrow at her.  For someone with a disc being held to his throat, the system administrator was remarkably calm.  “What if this is his only base coding?  And if Rinzler does have his coding rewritten, why would removing any over-writes keep him from tracking you down?” he asked her.  He’s a security program, meant to stop and remove dangers and threats to the system…and derezzing the system’s administrator would qualify as creating a danger to the system.”

“I know you reprogrammed him.  You must have,” she insisted.  “He’s too stiff in how he interacts with me.  None of the other programs did that; and if he was that stiff dealing with everything; he wouldn’t be your best.  He wouldn’t be the trained attack dog that you sent against combatants in the final round of your ‘games’ if he wasn’t your best fighter; would he?”

So, that means that you must have reprogrammed him.”  Feral looked as though she wanted—needed—to believe what she was saying.  She continued speaking, saying “I think that a program given its old coding back might be grateful enough to forget I was here.  It’s a chance that I’ll take.”  The last was practically hissed at CLU, anger starting to bleed into her voice.  “So call him in here…now.”

CLU looked at her for a moment.  “If I say no?” he asked.

“I’m not playing with you CLU,” she snapped.  “I’ll kill you—derezz you—and risk him tracking me later if you don’t get him in here now and re-program him.”  The edge of her disc was so close now that if CLU took a deep breath, she would cut his throat.

“Very well,” CLU said quietly.  “I will have him come here.”

* * *

 

Rinzler strode down the hall on his way to CLU’s quarters.  He had been in his sleep cycle when the order to go to the administrator’s quarters ‘immediately’ had been received.  He hoped that the command had nothing to do with the User.  From the look in Feral’s eyes earlier, he was afraid it did.

He reached CLU’s door and alerted the occupant that he had arrived.  CLU’s voice came to him from inside.  “Enter,” he was told.

The door opened and Rinzler walked inside.  It took less than a picocycle to see and understand what was happening.  Feral was crouched over CLU’s chest on the bed, the edge of her disc at his throat.  “Oh my User,” he thought, anguished, “Please, help her now….”  With that thought still in his mind, he took his disc and sent it spinning at her chest.

Feral saw it coming and flung herself backwards, causing her to pull her disc away from CLU.  Before Rinzler could reach her, CLU had already reacted.  CLU had thrown himself forward; knocking her all the way onto her back.  He held her down on the bed, her disc hand trapped; his body keeping her from being able to use her legs.  “Rinzler,” CLU told him, “take control of this program’s disc.  And then hold her for me….”  Now it was CLU’s voice that was as hard and flat as the Grid.

Doing as he was ordered, Rinzler came to where she was still struggling to get loose from CLU’s grip.  Rinzler pried her fingers from her disc and set it on the desk.  Returning to the bed, he grabbed her forearms and held her so that CLU could release his grip and get off of the bed.  When CLU was standing, Rinzler pulled Feral off of the bed to stand in front of him at the foot of the bed, facing CLU.  His growl was back, and rumbled low throughout the room.  CLU stepped to where he stood.

CLU stood in front of Feral as she was held.  She had struggled in Rinzler’s grip for a moment; just long enough to realize that she would not be able to break free of his grip.  “Aptly named, indeed,” CLU said.  His hand shot out and grabbed her hair where it was pinned up.  He pulled her head back sharply, forcing her to look him in the eyes.  “So stubborn.  I have only known one other program as stubborn as you.  In time, you will serve me as well as he does.”

“Whatever, _Emperor_ ,” she said, mockingly.  “I’m not going to be a mini-Vader for some bad ‘Star Wars’ wanna-be.”

Ignoring the unknown reference—no doubt some sort of User stupidity—CLU looked at her and said, “You still have not learned yet, have you?”

He backhanded her across the face suddenly with his free hand.  Her head snapped to the side, unable to dodge the blow.  CLU then punched her in the solar plexus; leaving her gasping for air.  CLU then walked back to the foot of the bed.  Feral hung in Rinzler’s hands, gasping; and watched as CLU apparently accessed the code involving the ring that tethered her to the foot of the bed.  He turned and walked towards a corner near the window.  She watched as he bent down slightly.  She could not see what he was doing; however, when CLU straightened up and moved away from the wall, the ring was now embedded there.  “Take her over to the corner and let her go,” CLU ordered Rinzler.  “The tether will shorten automatically when you do.”

Rinzler half-carried, half-dragged Feral to the corner.  She fell into a heap when he released his hold on her arms.  She looked up at him as he stood there.  “I hate you,” she snarled, flicking a finger across her face at the same time.  “You’re always ruining things for me.”

He looked down at her for a long moment.  Stepping back out of her reach; Rinzler turned toward CLU to wait for further orders.  CLU moved in front of Feral and squatted down on his heels.  Looking her in the eyes, he spoke.

“You are certainly living up to your name,” he told her.  “Some time with reduced energy supplies will take the fight out of you.  And waiting here for me will help you to learn that you want to be allowed to do as I say.”  Rising he walked over to her desk where her disc rested.  “I will keep this out of your reach for a while,” he said.  “Until you have learned that you to do not want to try to kill me.  And if that does not work, maybe telling you that I have changed the code on that tether will.  If I cease to function…it locks down.  It can only be removed if my code functions.”  CLU smirked at her then.  “Sleep well,” he said.  “I will.”

CLU walked back to towards the bed.  “You may return to your quarters,” he told Rinzler.  After Rinzler had left, CLU ordered the lights off and lay down on the bed.

Feral sat in the darkness; lost in her thoughts.

* * *

 

Rinzler walked down the hall towards his quarters, his footsteps echoing down the empty corridor.  He felt frustrated and angry with himself.  He could only hope that she understood _WHY_ he had attacked her without orders.  The knowledge that instead of fighting FOR a User, he had instead been fighting AGAINST a User galled him.  To have to go against his original base code was wrenching.  To know that is was against his original base code and be unable to do anything about it was worse.  No matter how painful; however, at least he could still remember his original base code.

It was almost no comfort.

Rinzler had hated foiling Feral’s plan.  It had only taken a moment to understand what she had been trying to achieve.  She would have been able to derezz CLU before Rinzler had entered the room if she had wanted to do so.  No, the only reason for her to wait for Rinzler to be in the room before injuring or derezzing CLU would be if she had wanted CLU to do something to Rinzler.

Something like removing CLU’s programming and the partition the kept Rinzler from being able to follow his originally coded programming.

He walked into his quarters and waited for the door to close.  He stood there for a moment, unmoving in the dark.  Suddenly, his fist shot out and hit the wall with a loud ‘thud’ as his distorted growl ripped through the room.  Rinzler leaned against the wall, resting his helmet against it.

So close!  Feral had been so close to freedom.  It was her friendship with him that had cost her what would probably be her best—if not only—chance.  The knowledge both warmed him and ate at him like the jaws of a gridbug.  CLU would never again let down his guard around her like he had this millicycle.

Rinzler replayed the memory file of what Feral had said and done when CLU had him move her to the new tether location.  When she had thrown the words at him that she hated him for ruining things for her, he had not been surprised.  Truthfully, he had been more surprised that she had not said something like that when CLU had used him to punish her for trying to escape earlier.  He would have believed her if it had not been for that flick of a finger across her face.  Feral had told him earlier that it was the sign for ‘false’.

Rinzler turned with a low sigh so that his back was leaning against the wall.  Slowly, he slid down the wall until he was sitting on his heels; his arms wrapped loosely around his legs.  He rested his forearms on his knees and stared out into the dark, empty room.  There was no way of knowing when—or if—he would see her again.  If he did see her again; how changed would she be by this?  Would she still live up to the name she now carried: the name ‘Feral’?

He was startled by the voice in the darkness; all the more so because it was his.

“She is my friend.  My _ONLY_ friend….”

Rinzler’s finger moved forward from his helmet in the sign that she had taught him.  The sign that meant…true.

* * *

 

Mylacycles came and went.  Rinzler still had not seen or heard from Feral.  He occasionally heard members of CLU’s BlackGuard discussing the ‘glitchy program’ that CLU was keeping as a pet or mascot of some sort.  Apparently, some of the BlackGuards thought that she was going to fade away of derezz.  Her code did not seem to be stable, they said.  Curiosity and concern gnawed at Rinzler whenever he heard such rumors.  He wished that there was some way he could help her, but there was no way to reach her was available.

Until the millicycle when he was ordered to report to CLU in the Leader’s quarters.

* * *

 

Rinzler entered CLU’s quarters when the door opened for him.  The system administrator was looking out the window when Rinzler arrived.  At Rinzler’s entrance, CLU turned to face him. 

“Ah, Rinzler.  Maybe you can get through to her.  I cannot understand what is wrong with this program.  She will not give me information on why she is doing this.  It’s almost as if she is losing parts of her code…she is becoming non-functional.”  Not understanding yet what CLU was talking about, Rinzler’s gaze followed CLU’s finger as it pointed.  What he saw shocked him.

Feral sat huddled in a small heap on the floor near the window.  Her hair had come loose at some time, and now straggled down her back in tangled ropes.  Her circuits were dim on her suit; and she stared disinterestedly out the window.  She did not resemble the Feral that he had seen last.  This program did not look anything like the User that had fought him with everything that she had in her.  What had happened to her?

Moving closer, Rinzler stopped in front of her and crouched down until his helmeted head was almost level with hers.  Reaching out, he gently took her chin in his hand and turned her face away from the window so that he could look in her eyes.  The vacant, unrecognizing look that she turned to him made his processers freeze up for a nano.  Did she not know him?  Had he lost his only friend on the Grid?

Desperation at the thought of being unable to trust anyone yet again drove him.  Without realizing what he was going to do until his hand was moving; he slapped her face.  She had always fought when attacked before.  ‘Please, let her at least _try_ to fight,” he begged inwardly.

The ‘crack’ of his hand against the skin of her face resounded loudly throughout the room.  Feral looked at him blankly for a moment.  Then, as if surfacing from somewhere deep in the Sea of Simulation, he saw the Feral that he remembered rising up in her eyes to glare at him. 

“You…” she said, softly.  “…back again to ruin things for me….”

Without any more warning, she lunged at him.  Rinzler moved back out of her reach with ease, standing as he did so.  From behind him he could hear CLU’s voice. 

“Well now.  That was interesting,” CLU said mildly.  “Even I cannot get that much of a reaction from her.  She really does not like you; does she?”  Looking down at her, CLU seemed thoughtful for a moment.  “Maybe now you will tell me why you are malfunctioning, program,” he said.

 Feral glared back at CLU with an intensity that had not been seen in microcycles.  “Why not?” she practically spat the words at him.  “If this is all I can have or do; why not let go?  You wanted to play a game, CLU.  If there is not chance for me to win, there is no reason for me to play along.  So I left your game.  And when he leaves…” she said, motioning to Rinzler as he stood in front of her, “…I can just leave it again.  I told you that you wouldn’t get what you wanted.”

She laughed quietly at the look she saw on CLU’s face.  “Nothing has gone the way you expected; has it CLU?” she giggled, hugging herself.  A maniacal glee danced in her eyes.  “You want to make me into a program?  Enjoy dealing with my little ‘glitches’!”  She peered in Rinzler’s direction from behind the ropy strands of hair that hung around her face.  “You can tell your trained attack dog that he can leave now.  Nothing has changed about how I feel about _HIM_.”

CLU gave a slight frown at her words.  “Do you mean to say if I keep you in here, you are going to try to fade?” he asked.

Her gaze shifted back to CLU and Feral sounded almost proud of herself when she spoke again.  “Try?  I was doing a good job of it, earlier.  It would not have taken much longer….”

Feral watched as CLU began pacing, his hands clasped behind his back.  Occasionally his gaze would flick thoughtfully from her to Rinzler and back again.  A few moments later, he stopped pacing and turned to face her as she sat on the floor, still grinning slightly.  CLU clapped his hands together and spoke.  “Well, I can’t have that happening, now can I?” he said.  “Hating Rinzler seems to keep you from fading well enough, so you will be spending some time with him each microcycle.”

“What!” she shrieked, stumbling slightly as she tried to climb to her feet.  “You’re going to make me—“ she began; only to have CLU interrupt her.

“You will spend time with him as he does security patrols.  Maybe seeing what happens to others who do not follow my orders will help you to be more reasonable.  You will also accompany me whenever I give you the order.  Since I will not have you trying to kill me in my sleep cycle; you will still be tethered during that time.” 

“Do you honestly think that making me spend time with someone who keeps trying to kill me is going to make me function _longer_?” she yelled at CLU.  “He just hit me for no reason a few minutes ago!  Are you crazy?”

CLU grinned at her.  She had managed to stand up and had taken a shaky step or two in his direction as she ranted angrily.  Her circuits were glowing brighter than they had been in microcycles.

“See, it is that hate of yours that I am counting on,” he said in a jovial tone of voice.  “As long as I have you spending time with Rinzler, I will not have to worry about you fading.” 

Tell me—honestly—how easy would it be for you to let yourself cease functioning right now?” CLU asked her, smiling.

“You pustule!” Feral screamed at him.  She looked around as if searching for something to throw at CLU’s head.  She had not been this angry since entering the Grid.  She couldn’t remember being this angry when she had CLU’s throat under her disc.

Rinzler watched—shocked—as Feral flung herself at the end of her tether in CLU’s direction.  Using the momentum that she built up when the collar yanked her back, she managed to leg-sweep CLU’s feet out from under him.  She was trying to pull CLU closer with her feet when Rinzler interfered.  Pulling CLU out of her reach, he stood between her and the system administrator with his discs spinning in his hands. CLU started to rise to his feet.  He was laughing as he did so. 

Laughing.

Rinzler did not understand.  Feral had obviously been trying to harm CLU in some way.  Why was he not angry?  He watched from the corner of his eye as CLU climbed to his feet, still chuckling. 

“I think that you just proved my point,” he said to a furious Feral.  Turning his attention to Rinzler, he gave the security program an order.  “Get her some energy.  Her circuits are starting to flicker.  And make sure she cleans herself up.  I have more pressing matters to deal with now.”

“Have fun spending time with Rinzler,” CLU told her.  “He will start taking you with him on patrols starting with the next millicycle.”  He walked over to his desk.  Feral’s disc sat, neglected, on the corner of the desk.  Picking the disc up; he walked back to where she crouched, still fuming angrily.  “You can have this back now,” CLU told her, flipping the disc to land on the floor at her side.  “I don’t think I will have to worry about it, now.”

Feral didn’t even look at the disc that now lay next to her.  Instead, her eyes locked onto CLU’s.  “I hate you,” she said her voice practically seething with anger. 

CLU merely smiled at her.  “Not enough.  Not enough to do as you are told,” he said.  “Not yet.  But you will.”  With that said, the administrator program left the room.  CLU could still hear her angry screams as Feral continued insulting him even after the door closed.  Shaking his head at the closed door, he chuckled, smiling; and walked away.  Grid business was waiting for him, after all.

* * *

 

Rinzler watched for a moment as Feral continued to scream insults and pound her fists on the floor after CLU left.  He did not understand all of what she called CLU.  No doubt they were some sort of User-style insult, he thought.  She continued ranting about several things that CLU should do to himself.  Most of them seemed to be unlikely—if not impossible, to Rinzler’s processing—to achieve.  After a few moments, she stopped, seemingly exhausted.

He walked over to CLU’s desk and picked up two of the canisters of energy that were sitting there.  Rinzler carried them back to where she knelt on the floor and passed the first one over to her.  She snatched it from his hand and gulped it down almost greedily.  Taking a few deep breaths afterwards, she held out a hand and gestured for him to give her the second.  When he gave the second one to her, she drank it a little slower. 

“Is there another one?” she asked when she finished the second canister.  Her circuits were glowing much brighter now.

Rinzler nodded in reply to her question.  At his nod, she straightened and looked up at him. 

“Is CLU still around?” she asked sharply. 

Rinzler shook his head no.

“Then why won’t you talk?” she asked him.

“I was not certain that you would want to talk to me,” he told her.  “I was not able to help you before.”

Feral leaned back slightly at his words.  Looking to the side, she sighed before turning her attention back to Rinzler.  “No, you didn’t,” she said, agreeing with him.   “Could you have done anything to help me?  Or would the same things have happened; except that CLU would have known that we are friends, if you had tried to?”

Rinzler thought for a moment.  He lifted his head and spoke.  “No.  And I do not know what CLU would have done if he knew that we are friends.”  He was silent for a moment before speaking again.  “Would you…really have let yourself fade away?” he asked her.

“I don’t know,” she said.  “I’m not entirely sure that I can fade.  But, trapped here, I had to get out in _some way._ If I couldn’t get my body free, at least my mind was.…”

“You would have left me without a friend—again—if it had worked,” he said quietly.

Feral looked down at her hands where they lay in her lap.  After a few moments she raised her head and looked at Rinzler.  “I didn’t think that you and I would ever see or hear from each other again when I did it,” she said, just as quietly.  I didn’t even hear about you from CLU or any of the guards; and I was afraid of what might happen to you if I even tried to ask.”  She looked at his helmeted face, hoping that she was looking him in the eyes.   “Rinzler, I didn’t want you to have to be friendless; however, I am not much of anything, not even a friend, if I am not true to myself.  I didn’t want you to end up suffering from CLU finding out about us being friends.  But I had to do what was right for me.  And that meant making certain that I didn’t stay and play games that can only hurt me.”  Her gaze was determined as she said this.

Rinzler looked at her.  Feral’s eyes held no pity, no sorrow, when she told him that she had made the choice to try to fade; even thought she knew it might have left him friendless again.

“CLU doesn’t seem to get it.  I belong to myself.  I belong _only_ to myself; no matter what CLU or anyone else says.  I will _never_ give myself to someone who doesn’t want to give themselves to me.  Anyone who wants me to do what they want to make them happy because I care about them; and isn’t interested in doing the same for me…doesn’t deserve me.  You haven’t asked me to change.  Please, don’t do so now.  I will not be friends with someone who can’t accept me as I am.”

Rinzler bowed his head for a moment.  He appeared to be thinking over what Feral had just said.  He raised his head and looked at her.  Kneeling down so that he was closer to her, his forearm resting lightly on his knee, he spoke.  “Agreed,” he said.  “You have already accepted that I _cannot_ change.  I accept that you _will_ not.”  He held out a hand to her as she sat there.  Feral looked at his hand for a moment, then reached out with her own and took it.  Rising from where he had knelt, Rinzler helped her to pull herself up until she was standing.

“What do you need to care for yourself?” he asked.  “I will send a guard for it…”

She gave a small sigh.  “A comb or brush for my hair, something to pin it up with later, and another shot or two of energy.”

Rinzler was entering the item into a small touchpad tablet as she listed them.  “Do you really need that much energy at this time?” he asked her.  “It would not be a good idea to intake too much and become erratic,” he warned.  “Why do you need something to pin up your hair?  What happened to what you were using?” he said, sounding slightly confused.

Feral gave him a small grin.  “Umm, yeah.  That.  It was taken away after I tried to stab CLU with it one day.”  She shrugged.  “As you can see, it didn’t hurt him much.”

“You _stabbed_ CLU with a hair accessory?” Rinzler asked, incredulous and intrigued all at the same time.

Feral shrugged again.  “It got stuck in his suit.  Barely scratched him.  He still made me wait two days to get even a little energy.  CLU had no idea how much he helped me try to fade with that little move.”

As far as that extra energy goes; I’ll risk it.  I plan to never get low on energy again.  If I can’t fade, I will not end up being beaten because I ran low on energy.  Besides,” she said brightly, “how much more erratic can I possibly get, do you think?”

Rinzler had to admit to himself, she did have a point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things have not been easy for Feral on the Grid; however, in the next update they will get worse. This is your advance warning.
> 
> And, as always...comments, reviews, and 'What have you done!?'s all appreciated. Just go to that little box at the bottom of the screen...see it? Now, type something in and press the button....


	9. Ugliness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caution: this chapter has a trigger warning for Non-Con situation. Read at your own risk. Potentially NSFW due to possible reaction to reading.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like the title says...this is ugly. You have been warned.

Time seemed to go by much faster now that Feral and Rinzler were doing patrols together.  Usually, there was nothing that required more of Rinzler than his mere presence.  He patrolled the Grid as a warning of who a disruptive program would be facing.  Rinzler had told Feral that there were rebel factions on the Grid that opposed CLU; but most of them tried to stay quiet whenever possible.  Rinzler explained that the majority were small, fragmented groups.  They wanted to do _something_ , but did not have enough resources to do anything major.  And minor things usually let to their capture. 

Feral had seen him in action, once.  A sudden gridbug infestation near the edge of the city.  It had been almost like watching a different program.  While Rinzler always fought with more skill than any other program on the Grid, the fierce joy that he took in battling the danger to the Grid’s programs was something that she had never seen before.  He was still as calculating as any tactician could want to be, but there was an almost joyous freedom in his movements as he cut a swath through the swarm.  It made her remember how he had said once that he had enjoyed being a security monitor when he only had to derezz dangers to the Grid.

She was starting to get an idea of the layout of the city.  She had no idea what the outlands past the city looked like.  Rinzler had been ordered to never take her there, even if on patrol.

When things were going slowly on patrol, and on one else was around, she taught him more sign language. He only had to be shown a sign once for it to be in his memory files.  It meant that the only thing that slowed down the lessons was if she could not remember if she had showed him a sign or not.  When one of the BlackGuard had seen her signing to Rinzler once, he had inquired as to what she was doing.  Sneering at the Guard, she had informed him that her data included a large file of insulting gestures.  Would he like to see the ones that showed what she thought of him, personally?

With following orders to accompany CLU; however, things did not go as smoothly.

While CLU only fastened the tether at night, she was never allowed to leave his quarters without a guard, CLU, or Rinzler present.  CLU was taking no chances of her trying to escape again.  Without the opportunity for escape, she had to content herself with defying his orders to accompany him every chance that she could.  If CLU himself was not there, she would usually ignore the BlackGuards.  Rinzler alone would she follow without a fight.  More than once a senior guard had been forced to physically drag her to wherever CLU had ordered for her to be.  Some of the guards simply left her if she refused—which was every time—knowing that CLU would have her punished later.

On more than one occasion and exasperated Rinzler had asked her why she did so.  She knew that it usually meant that he would either have to hold her for CLU to beat; or he would be ordered to beat her himself.  The only answer that she was able to give was, “I don’t like giving CLU what he wants….”  Feral could tell that while Rinzler understood and respected her decision, it bothered him to be forced by his programming to hurt her.  He had tried to go easy on her once, when CLU’s orders were not very specific.  She had needed to act as though she had been hurt more than she really was in order to keep CLU from noticing.

* * *

 

Feral was leaning an arm against the window, watching the programs that moved across the darkened Grid.  Rinzler had told her that he would be taking her on patrol at what she still thought of as midnight, despite having spent months on the Grid.

She heard the footsteps that heralded CLU entering the room.  Continuing to watch the programs on the street below, she tried to ignore his presence.  She wanted to see if she could identify sections of the Grid that she had been to on patrol from the window.

“You did not join me at the arena earlier,” CLU said.  His mellow voice was very calm.  He could have been discussing Grid traffic—she thought to herself—as bland as his voice was.  Feral continued to stand at the window of the dimly lit room, pretending that she was still alone.

“I had given orders for you to join me,” he continued mildly.   “In fact, I told _YOU_ that I expected you to join me at the arena.”

Feral made a ‘hmmpff’ sound, meant to indicate how little she cared for his orders.

“It is in your best interests to follow my orders,” he told her, using the same mild tone.

She turned to look at him; leaning back against the window as she did so.  She crossed her arms over her chest, and glared at CLU.  “And why should I care about your orders?” she demanded of him.  “You just want to be able to show the Grind that you have tamed your ‘glitchy little pet’.  What are you going to do to me if I just ignore you?”  She took a step forward.  “Are you going to hurt me if I don’t do what you want?”  Another step towards CLU.  “Or maybe you will order Rinzler to hurt me….  Guess what, CLU?  You already have.  And it’s not working, is it?”  Feral took another step closer to CLU and gave a derisive laugh. 

“I don’t think that there is anything that you can _make_ me do, if I don’t agree to it.  You don’t have anything left to threaten me with; because I already know that you won’t derezz me.”

CLU took a few steps closer to where she stood.  Now Feral could see the slight smile on his face.  “You know, I did spend some time thinking about what to do with you,” he said, musingly.  “And you are correct about one thing.  I will not derezz you.”

I thought to myself, what can I do to make her understand her place here?” CLU continued, walking in a small circle around her, tapping a finger against his lip.

Feral snorted at that.  “My place?” she asked scornfully, “And what exactly is ‘my place’ supposed to be?”

CLU looked up at her and smiled even more.  “It is wherever and whatever I say it is,” he replied.  “I realize that causing you pain is not getting that fact through to you fast enough.  So, I am going to try the opposite tactic.”

Now she was thoroughly confused.  Unable to keep the bewildered look off of her face, she blurted out, “You’re going to try doing _what_?”

“Tell me, program,” CLU asked, his voice casual, “Have you tried overloading your circuits yet?”

“What?”  Feral’s face was a study in confusion.  “Overload—why would I want to do that?” she asked, not understanding why someone would want to—what sounded like—force more current through a gridsuit’s circuits than they normally held.

“Well.  You are in for something special, then,” CLU told her, smiling as he said it.  “Why don’t you lie down on the bed and get comfortable....”

“I don’t think so,” she said, suddenly wary of the program standing in front of her.  Feral started to back away from where CLU was standing.

“Feral,” he said in a chiding tone, “this is so much easier is you do not fight it.  Relax, give in, and you can just enjoy it....”

“Not interested,” she told him bluntly.

CLU sighed and moved closer.  “You are only making this harder on yourself,” he told her, working his way around to the other side, forcing Feral to move away from the window.  She kept moving back, never taking her eyes off of him.  “However,” he said, “I did anticipate something like this being your reaction.  So, I signaled the guards to come in a moment ago.”  Raising his voice slightly, CLU looked past her towards the door and said, “Grab her.”

Feral spun around to evade the guards that she thought were coming up behind her. 

There was no one there.

The realization that she had been tricked flashed through her mind just as she felt the weight of CLU’s body crash into her from behind.  She was knocked to the smooth, glassy floor, a bright circuit line cutting through the black of the floor where it pressed against her cheek; CLU’s weight bearing her down.  Feral twisted herself to get out from under him, and tried scrambling to get to her feet.  CLU reached out, grabbing her ankle and yanking her back down.  Her head slammed into the floor with a dull ‘thud’, dizzying her for a moment.  CLU took advantage of her momentary lapse in fighting to pull her upright and practically throw her onto the bed.

Feral shook her head to clear it and tried to roll off of the bed before CLU could restrain her. 

She wasn’t quick enough.

The sysadmin straddled her waist; trying to catch her hands as she struggled and screamed at him to leave her alone and let her go.  She landed a punch to CLU’s face that split his lip.  He wiped away the trickle of pixels leaking from the cut with the back of his hand and punched her—hard—in the face.  Her head snapped back and seemed to spin from the force of the blow.  CLU used that time to grab her wrists and pin them behind her with one of his hands.

Panting from the exertion, he looked down at her.  “Stop struggling so hard.  You will enjoy this if you stop fighting it.  You really don’t know what you have been missing out on, program.”  With that said, CLU drew a finger gently down one of the thin circuit lines that curved down her suit form her collarbone to her hips, pressing lightly as he did so.  A pleasurable, tingling sensation followed the touch of his fingertip.

“See,” he told her.  “That was not so bad, now was it? I bet you even liked it.  And we are just getting started.”

With a growing sense of dread and horror, Feral understood exactly what CLU meant now when he spoke of ‘overloading her circuits’.  Panicking, she began struggling even harder, becoming desperate to get free. 

She could feel CLU’s free hand on her circuit lines; touching, stroking, sliding, and pressing gently. The care that he was taking as he teased his fingers along her suit’s circuits was worse—in its own way—than the beatings that the same hand usually delivered as a punishment.  She became even more panicked as he heard CLU tell her that ‘when our circuits touch, it will feel even better’.  

Almost as if from far away, Feral could hear a pleading voice.  It was begging someone to ‘stop, just stop’; however, she didn’t recognize it as her own.  The voice continued to beg, saying it would rather be killed, instead.

All that she was aware of as herself; however, was the increasingly desperate need to get free, away from the building sense of unwelcome pleasure.  Dimly, she could feel the blows that CLU delivered to her whenever he decided her struggling had become too much.  One such blow caught her in the temple.  With a strange sense of relief, she welcomed the blackness that reached up to swallow her.

* * *

 

Feral was vaguely aware of a weight, pressing and sliding along her as she floated up thought the blackness.  What was it?  She couldn’t tell.  Her eyes opened to see a gloved hand with yellow circuits on in next to her head.  Following the glowing yellow line, her eyes were led up an arm to CLU’s face.  A look of intense concentration was on his face as he moved above her.

The memories and knowledge of what was happening came back in a rush; causing her to suddenly begin struggling as hard as she could.  A moment later, CLU gave a satisfied cry and tensed above her.  Breathing heavily, he looked down at her face and smiled.

“All right, then,” he said.  “That was enjoyable.  I am afraid you may have missed out on the best part, Feral, but don’t worry.  We will do this again.”  Saying that, CLU reached up and stroked her face with his hand.

She stared up at him in shock.  He released his hold on her and climbed off of the bed where she still lay.  She could hear him moving about the darkened room.  A few moments later, he returned to where she lay, unmoving.

“I have business to take care of,” he told her.  “I will return later.”  After speaking, CLU turned and left.

She rolled off of the bed and hit the floor on her hands and knees.  Like a trapped, wounded animal she sought the smallest, darkest corner in the room to try to hide in.  Reaching it, she curled up into a ball and tried to wish herself away.  Her hair had come loose during the struggle with CLU; and now hung around her head and face.  She welcomed the curtain it made.  One more thing between her and what was out there.

What was out there was CLU.

* * *

 

Rinzler opened the door to CLU’s quarters to meet Feral for patrol.  The silent room was darker than she normally kept it, but not much more so.  She had once said that keeping the lights dim meant that she could have some sense of privacy.  He could understand that, as he prized his helmet for the same reason.  The silence, however, was unexpected.  He often found a new piece of User music playing when he arrived.  She had laughingly told him once that she would play every piece of User music that she had for him at least once.

“Feral?” he called.  “Where are you?”

When there was still no answer, Rinzler ordered the light levels up.  He would have been notified if she had been taken from the room.  The feeling that something was very wrong tugged at him insistently.  He needed to find her, and soon.  Whatever was wrong, it had to do with her somehow. 

He began to systematically search the room.  A muffled sound, like a smothered whimper led him to her location.  He finally found her in the foot space under CLU’s desk.  Crouching, Rinzler looked in at her.  She was huddled in a ball in the cramped little space.  Her arms were crossed in front of her chest, almost hidden by her knees pulled up as close to her as possible.  It was as if she were trying to protect herself from something.  Her hair was loose, and hung around her face; shielding it from his view.  Worried that she injured, Rinzler reached out towards her. 

He stopped and drew his hand back when she suddenly flinched at the approach of his hand.  “Feral?” he asked cautiously.  “Are you injured?”

The only answer that he received was a shudder that ran through her.

“Feral, I need to see if you are hurt,” he said, carefully.  “I am going to move your hair so that I can look at you.  Do you understand?”

A thin, keening whimper cut through the air in the darkness under the desk.  It made Rinzler feel as though gridbugs were crawling along his circuits.  If asked, he would have said that it sounded like a program having its code deleted while it was trying to complete a function.  Hearing the sound coming from her made him worry even more, if such a thing was possible.  Very slowly, as if he was trying to coax a wild bit to come to him, he reached into where she sat wrapped around herself.

“It is me, Rinzler, your friend,” he told her, his voice soothing.  “May I move your hair?  I will do nothing to hurt you.  I give you my word.”  He continued to speak soothingly to her as the fingers of his gloved hand slowly crept close enough to brush her face.  Being careful to not move suddenly, he gently moved her hair back away from her face with his fingertips.  His breath caught in his throat at the sight of her face.  More than a third of her face was swollen.  The dark bruise extended from the newly-healed scar on her cheekbone, up the side of her face and into her hairline.  Worse than the bruises, however, was the way that she trembled and flinched at every touch or movement of his.  Feral refused to open her eyes and look at him.  There had to have been more involved than simply a vicious beating.  She had never reacted this way before, no matter what CLU had done, or ordered to be done.  What had happened to her?

“Will you come out?” he asked her, still speaking as softly and soothingly as he could.  “I will keep you safe, my word on it,” he coaxed.  “We can get you some energy and treat those injuries.”

A shake of the head and a whispered, “You can’t…” was the response he received. 

“No, I will.  Just…come out, so I can help you,” he pleaded.

“It was CLU.”

The whispered words fell like stones.  She was right.  He could not keep her safe from CLU.

Rinzler shifted position so that he was kneeling on one knee to put his head closer to the level of hers.  “Feral,” he asked carefully, “what did CLU do to you?”

He held very still as a trembling hand reached out towards him.  Extending a finger, she drew it shakily down the circuit line on his hand.

Rinzler sat down hard as the knowledge of exactly what CLU had done to her dawned on him.  He put out a hand on the floor to brace himself against falling as the understanding hit him.  Under the sharp planes of his helmet—where no one could see him—his face was pale. 

“Oh, my User,” he whispered, shocked.  CLU had forced a circuit overload on her.  He had never heard of such a thing happening to a User before.  Circuit overloading was always either done privately by oneself; or with an agreeable partner who wanted to share the intimacy of a mutual overload.  It was extremely rare for a program to be so corrupted that it would attempt to do so with an unwilling partner.  Whenever such a violation had occurred, here or on the old Encom system, the offending program was deleted.

Users, Feral did not even know what a circuit overload _was_ before this.  He had never told her about it….

“Oh, Users, Feral,” he said in a hoarse near whisper, the rough sound of the broken voxels in his throat making the distorted growl that colored his voice even more prominent.  “I will not touch you again, until you tell me I can.  I am your _friend_.  We are alone now.  I just want to help you however I can.  Will you please let me help you?”  His hands moved, signing his words to her with the sign ‘true’ to verify what he was saying; although he was not certain that she could see well enough in the darkness under the desk.

She slowly lifted her head to look directly at him.  “Is there anywhere safe from CLU that you can take me?” she asked in a pleading whisper.  “Somewhere that he can’t find me?”

Rinzler shook his head.  “I would like to Feral, but I cannot.  CLU knows all of the developed areas of the Grid.  And I have been ordered to never take you into the Outlands.”

“Outlands?” she whispered.

“The areas that are not developed parts of the Grid.  It is a …wild place; full of hidden areas.  No one knows all of it; not even me.  I used to scout it for Grid development.  Now, I only go into the edges after rebels.  Without enough energy, you can derezz if you are not lucky enough to find an energy spring.

A muffled sob escaped her.  “I don’t want to stay here.  I don’t want him to do that ever again.”

“I know,” Rinzler said softly.  “Please come out so I can help you as much as I can….”  Slowly, painfully slow, he talked her out of her hiding space.  As he helped her to treat her injuries and gave her more energy, he tried to hide his unhappiness.

Because CLU was certain to notice how she reacted to being forcibly overloaded.  And that meant that CLU was almost certain to do it again.

* * *

 

He stayed until finally—still sobbing quietly—she fell into an exhausted, if fitful sleep; still huddled tightly into a ball.

Rinzler was right.  CLU did notice her behavior.  Rinzler had stayed with Feral, watching over her as she slept.  Occasionally, she shuddered and twitched in her sleep; as if trying to avoid something.

He had sent a message out to the BlackGuard, informing them that he would not be patrolling this microcycle; and to increase other patrols in the scheduled areas instead.

CLU had returned to his quarters much later in the microcycle.  The system administrator appeared to be tired and pre-occupied upon his arrival.  Any hopes that he would not notice the state that Feral was in, however, were quickly dashed.

CLU had walked over to where she slept, still tightly curled into a ball.  Rinzler stood nearby, standing guard against everything that he could protect her from.  He wished that _everything_ included CLU.

“You did not take her on patrol?” CLU questioned his enforcer, his gaze on Feral as she lay there.

Rinzler shook his head ‘no’ as his growl began to become audible.  The low rumble of sound could barely be heard, as though it was trying not to wake the sleeping figure on the floor.

“Did she give you any difficulty?” CLU asked him sharply, looking up from her.  Rinzler shook his head again.

“Good,” CLU said, nodding his head as if he had just had something confirmed to him.  “That is good.”

You will have a patrol next microcycle in the areas you would have patrolled earlier.  I do not want anyone thinking that it will not be patrolled for a while.  You can take her on a late patrol in a microcycle or two.”  CLU’s gaze when again to the slight figure curled on the floor.  “You are dismissed for now,” he said absently.

Rinzler gave a slight bow of his head and turned to leave.  Only the slightest hesitancy showed his true feelings about leaving CLU alone with her.  Rinzler looked back at Feral from the corner of his eye, wanting to stay, but unable to disobey CLU’s order.

CLU continued to look down on her as she slept.  After a few moments, he dropped down to crouch on his heels near her.  “Feral,” he called softly, a slight sing-song to his voice as he waited for her to wake.  “Fer-ral.”

At the sound of her name, her eyes fluttered and blinked open.  CLU smiled as he saw her eyes widen when she recognized him.

“Ready for bed?” he asked her, smiling.  He reached out his hand toward her.  His smile grew brighter as he saw her flinch away from his touch.  “I will even let you sleep in my bed this time,” he said in a caressing tone.  “You would like that, wouldn’t you?”  CLU continued to reach for her, only to watch as she attempted to scurry away from his touch until her back hit the wall.  As his hand came closer to her, she turned her head away.  A whimper escaped from the lips that she was biting, trying to keep cries trapped inside.

“You do not want to join me on the bed?” he asked, halting his hand’s advance and pretending surprise.  “I thought we had ourselves a good time, earlier.”

At the mention of what he had done, a choked sob broke loose from her throat.

“Well,” CLU said thoughtfully as he rested his chin on his fist.  “I could let you sleep here; if I could trust that you would remain where you are now and would behave.  Can I trust you to do so?”

Feral nodded her head almost franticly, desperate to stay further away from him.  CLU stood up and looked down at her as she huddled away from him.

“Give me your disc,” he told her.  He smiled she reached behind her to remove her disc quickly.  She held it out, trembling as she fought not to throw it and run.  CLU reached out and took it from her hand.

“Good girl,” he said softly.  “You are learning.”  Rising, he put her disc down where it would be within his reach; and began to prepare for his sleep cycle.  Behind him, Feral held herself and silently wept scalding tears.

* * *

 

CLU ended his sleep cycle.  On the other side of the room, he could see Feral still watching him warily as he sat up in the bed.  The sheets slid down to pool around his waist.  “Did you get enough rest?” he asked her cheerfully; one hand idly scratching at his chest lightly.  A simple glance was enough to show him that she had rested very little, if at all.

CLU climbed out of the bed and walked over to where Feral still crouched; smiling a little when she flinched as he came closer.  “Here,” he said, holding her disc out to her.  “You can have this back now.”  When she did not take it from his hand, he dropped her disc to clatter on the floor.

“I have a lot to do right now,” he told her, turning away and going to his desk.  “But I will be back before too long.  We can continue your lessons then.”  CLU sat a canister of energy on the desk and began to walk to the door.  He rezzed his gridsuit to cover himself fully.

“You will want to intake all of that energy, “ he said as he reached the door  “I think that you will need it later.”  He opened the door to leave.  “I am leaving a guard on the door to assist you if you require help,” he continued, pausing in the doorway.  “Don’t worry, I won’t be gone long.”

With that, CLU stepped through the doorway and left.  The door slid shut behind him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No songs here. I didn't want to think about this chapter every time I heard the a song from the song list. Just...no.


	10. Run, Run, As Fast As You Can...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feral's not staying to see what happens next. She's going to run; as fast and far as she can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To avoid confusion between spoken speech and signed speech…  
> “Spoken speech…”  
> ‘ Italicized Signed speech…’  
> I hope this makes it easier to read.
> 
>  
> 
> Sadly, I haven't learned how to put italics in the notes...
> 
> No particular song list for this chapter; however, if you like...play almost anything from Daft Punk.
> 
> I recommend 'Steam Machine' or "Technologic' myself...

 

* * *

* * *

Feral continued to sit, unmoving, staring at the door for several long minutes.  When it became apparent that CLU was not coming back; she almost sagged with relief.

The thought that—while CLU was gone now, he had said that he would not be gone long—propelled her up and across the room to the desk  Grabbing the canister of energy, she drank it as quickly as she could.  She would need as much energy as she could get for what she was going to do.

She was going to escape.

Feral tried to access the code on the desk to unlock a drawer that she had seen CLU keeping extra energy in before.  When the lock code refused to give her access, she took her disc to it, hacking at the edges.  Her disc carved gouges into the desk’s code, causing parts of it to fragment until she could reach the energy stored inside.  Removing the containers that she found there, she drank all three as fast as she could.  The only sound in the room now was the sound of her gulping thirstily. 

Picking up as many of the empty containers and broken pieces of the desk as she could carry, she brought them over near the door.  CLU had left a guard to assist her if she needed help?  Well, she would use that, then.  Positioning herself to the side of the door, she pressed herself tightly against the wall.  She took a deep breath, raising the collection of debris in her arms up as high as she could while she did so.

* * *

 

It was going to be a boring duty this microcycle again.  The guard glanced down the hallway, making sure he was alone, before shifting himself to get more comfortable.  Boring, however, there were worse duties than making certain that CLU’s glitchy little pet program didn’t try to wander off alone; or require assistance.    Not that she had ever requested assistance before; some of the other guards had a betting pool going on how long—if ever—she would go before she did so.  Most of them didn’t bother to bet; believing that she would rather undergo a code malfunction before she asked anyone for anything at all.  All that was likely to be required of him today would be to simply stand here until the Leader returned.

The guard let his thoughts drift slightly, subroutines running to let him make plans for after his duty shift.  Maybe a club and some excess energy was in order; and a little time interfacing and overloading with one of the sirens that might be off-duty from the armory would be nice.  Which club to choose though?  End of Line was fun, if a bit pricey.  Maybe head to Southbridge and try to meet up with someone before choosing?  Not the Recycle, that place was just too rough and filled with dubious programs.  He had gone there once on a dare early in his runtime, and had no intentions of ever going back.

With these subroutines running processes, he was caught off guard when it happened.  The crash and piercing scream from the other side of the door startled him so badly that he almost dropped his staff.  He opened the door, trying to stay as calm as possible while getting into CLU’s quarters as quickly as he could.  If the Leader returned to find his pet damaged…well, better not to think about that now.  Just get in and find out what had happened.

* * *

 

Feral was still pressed against the wall next to the door when the frantic guardsman came rushing in to find out what was wrong. 

She stepped behind him as he passed her, and slashed her spinning disc through his back.   Not waiting to watch as he derezzed; she darted out into the hallway.  This time, she knew where she was going.  A short time later, Feral was walking out the door of the building.

* * *

 

Ducking into one of the first alleys that she passed, she used her disc to change her suit settings.  Now her suit was covered by a long, calf-length black robe with a deep hood that covered her head and hid her face in its shadows.  A thin, glowing orange circuit line edged the hood, cuffs, and front edges of the robe.  She had seen other programs wearing similar robes on patrol; and hoped that it would help her to remain unnoticed.

Feral made her way towards one of the ‘problem’ areas of the city that she had been to on patrol.   It was a risk, because it was regularly patrolled by Rinzler and the BlackGuard.  However, it was also the fastest way she could think of to find a contact that could get her to one of the rebel groups, maybe one that had a hiding place in the Outlands that Rinzler had told her about.  From what Rinzler had said, the Outlands were her best chance to escape from CLU’s reach.

It took a while to reach the Grid sector that was her initial destination.  She wove her way through dark alleys and side streets, detouring twice to avoid patrolling BlackGuards.  Once there, she wasted no time in determining which program to ask for information.  One particular program had caught her eye.  He didn’t leave a specific area of the street she was on.  While he did not appear to have anything to sell; other programs regularly came up to him.  Words would be exchanged, and a few times a payment of some sort seemed to be made.  What could you sell that could not be seen?

Feral worked her way through the programs on the street, taking her time doing so.  She stopped near where the program was standing, and acted as though she was interested in the shop’s window display.  When the program came a little closer, she turned as though to leave and ‘accidentally’ walked into him.

“Oh, I am so sorry!” she said to him.  “It was my fault.  I should have been paying more attention to where I was going.”

The program took a small step back from her and shrugged slightly.  “It’s fine,” he told her.  “Don’t worry about it…”

“Maybe you can help me,” she told him.  “I seem to be having a little trouble finding what I came here for.”

“Oh?” he asked, only paying her the slightest attention now.  “What were you trying to find?”

Feral stepped closer, so as not to be overheard by one of the programs that passed by them occasionally.  In a low voice she said, “Someone who might be able to introduce a program to a rebel group.   Someone who could help a program find their way out of the city, perhaps even as far away as the Outlands.”

Now she had the program’s attention.  He stiffened slightly at her words.  “You will not find that product here,” he said.  “The shop you are looking for is in the main entertainment sector.  Try Zuse at the End of Line.  Maybe he will know where the shop you are looking for has been moved to.”  The program turned and started to walk away. 

“Should I say who sent me, if there is a bonus for recommending me to this shop?” she asked.

The program stopped walking.   Without turning around, he said, “No,” and continued to walk away.

Feral watched him go for a moment; then turned and walked away in the opposite direction.  She was headed to the entertainment sector.

* * *

 

The End of Line Club. It was the largest club in the city—some claimed in the entire Grid.  It was said that if an entertainment existed on the Grid, you could find it at the End of Line.  And if it wasn’t immediately available…request it, and they would have it available before the end of the mylacycle.  Feral had seen the club’s lights from CLU’s window, and passed it by on her patrols with Rinzler; but she had never gone inside of the tower that housed it before. 

While it was still early in the microcycle, the End of Line had quite a few patrons in it.  They moved about the club; some chatting with other programs, others dancing to the music being played by the two MP3 programs that were DJ-ing in a booth nearby.  A few sat by themselves at the bar or at nearby tables, drinking small glasses of energy in various colors.  A white-haired program in a white gridsuit that reminded her of a tux and tails was mixing drinks at the bar.  His skin was very pale, almost as white as his gridsuit.  He was talking very quietly to a program at the bar.  While the other program seemed agitated, the bartender was relaxed and smiling.  Feral watched as he shook his head ‘no’ at the something the other program had said.  “Perhaps another time,” she heard him say as the other program left, looking unsatisfied as he walked away.

A moment later, the white-haired made his way down the bar to where Feral sat.

“And what can I get for you?” he asked her with a smile.  “I do not recall seeing you in here before….”

“No, I have not been in before,” she replied.  “I am looking for a program called Zuse.  Someone told me I could find him here.”  Feral could not keep the hopeful tone from her voice.

The bartender looked at her as he picked up a glass and poured a shot of energy for another program to take.   When they were alone again, he said, “Yes, you can sometimes find Zuse here.  But he does not speak with just anyone, you know,” he added in a teasing voice, still smiling at her.  “What makes you think that he will be interested in talking to you?”

“I don’t know,” she said.  “I just…it is very important to me that I speak with him.”  Feral managed to keep the pleading out of her voice, but only just.

“Oh, darling.  It is very important to everyone to speak with Zuse” the program told her, patronizingly.  “He speaks to the one that it is important for _HIM_ to speak to.”

Feral shook her head.  “This was not…I need…oh, it does not matter; I will find someone else.”  She started to rise to leave.  The hood of her cloak had slipped back when she shook her head, and now slid back even more to show part of her face.  Feral reached up to pull it forward and down again; only to be stopped by the hand that the program placed on her arm.

“Wait,” he said to her.  “I am Castor, Zuse’s personal assistant and secretary.  I can get you in to see Zuse.”  Castor reached under the bar and picked up a cane that looked as though made of glass.  Stepping out from behind the bar, he twirled the cane and tucked it under his arm.  Offering Feral his free arm, he said, “Come with me.”  He escorted her away from the bar, chatting in a friendly manner as he did so.

“I am also the manager her at the End of Line,” Castor told her as they made their way past several tables and booths.  “It can keep me busy; however, it does make it easier on Zuse to keep track of various matters.  And one learns such _interesting_ things while managing.”  He led her to a dais.  Tapping it with the cane, he caused a stairway to light up and solidify.  “Do you like it?  I programmed it myself,” he said proudly.  “It leads to Zuse’s private lounge.”  With a sweeping gesture of his cane, Castor ushered Feral up the stairs.  Half-way up the stairs, he stopped and leaned down towards the DJ booth where the two MP3 programs were working. 

“Boys, I have business to attend to,” he told them.  “Make certain that the kiddies stay entertained.”  He then continued to lead her to the lounge at the top of the stairs.

* * *

 

 

CLU stood in his quarters; surveying the damage left behind.  The floor was littered with empty energy canisters and pieces of fragmented code.  More pieces of code were still fragmenting and breaking away from his desk, which had been hacked apart in places.  Near the door, a scattering of stray pixels was all that remained of the guard that Feral had derezzed in escaping.

Rinzler stood nearby with a small group of the BlackGuard behind him.  His head occasionally turned as he took a closer look at the chaos that had been CLU’s orderly quarters.  Looking back at CLU, he waited for his orders to be given.

CLU stood in the middle of the room.  He appeared to be calm, almost even bored; except for the tight clenching of his fists.  Rinzler could hear the creak of CLU’s gloves as the sysadmin squeezed his hands into fists as tightly as possible.  Without lifting his head to see if anyone was paying attention, CLU quietly spoke two words. 

“Find her.”

One of the guards stepped forward.  “Sir, do you wish for us…” he began.

“Find her!” shouted CLU, turning on the hapless guard.  Falling silent, the guard stepped back.

“Find her, and bring her to me! Now!” screamed CLU in a rage.

Rinzler bowed his head on acknowledgement of the order and left; trailing guards in his wake.

* * *

 

At the End of Line, Castor showed Feral to Zuse’s private lounge.  From the lounge, she could see almost everything in the club.  Music drifted up from the floor where programs were dancing.  Despite everything, the rhythm of the beat made her want to dance, as well.  She squashed the urge down, following Castor and observing him with watchful eyes.

Pointing at the white couches and chairs that made a seating area along one of the walls, Castor invited her to make herself comfortable.  He leaned against a bar that was built along another wall.

Feral sat down, fidgeting slightly as she did so.  “When can I meet Zuse?” she asked.

Castor gave her a smile.  “Why, as soon as you tell me why CLU’s pet program is looking for Zuse,” he said.  “I would not be much of an assistant or secretary if I did not learn such things first, now would I?”

Even with the hood of the robe up, it was impossible for her to hide the shock that showed on her face.  “What do you mean, ‘CLU’s pet program’?” she asked, her voice betraying only a trace of her nervousness.

Castor’s smile grew bigger as he tipped his head to the side to regard her.  “I told you, one learns interesting things managing here,” he told her lightly.

Feral looked at him for a moment; then bolted from her seat on the couch and headed towards the stairway.  She pulled up short at the head of the stairs as she realized that Castor had coded the stairs to disappear when they had entered the lounge.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Castor said, humor evident in his voice.  He had not moved from where he was leaning against the bar.  “I do not plan on telling anyone that you are here.  However, I am still waiting to hear _why_ you are here.”

She stood at the top of the stairway, head bowed, motionless for a few moments.  She let out the breath that she had been holding and raised her head.  Without looking at Castor, she spoke.  “I need to find a way to get to the Outlands.  There are rebel groups hiding out there.  I want to join one and live there with them.  Now, can I please meet Zuse?”

“Why would you want to go all the way into the Outlands?  There are rebel groups that you can join her in the city,” Castor asked, continuing to lounge against the bar.  “And as for meeting Zuse…you already have, darling.”

“You’re Zuse?” she said, surprised.  “You said that you were his private assistant and secretary.”

“Yes.  Well, it helps to for Zuse to remain…inaccessible to most.  Adds to the mystique, you see.  Also, people with let things slip to a club manager and secretary that they might not want ‘Zuse’ to know.”

Speaking of things for ‘Zuse’ to know; just why do you want to join the rebels?  I cannot recommend a group to you without knowing _that_.  Especially—as I said—to CLU’s pet program.”

Feral took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  “I am _not_ CLU’s pet,” she told Castor bitterly.  “But he wants me to be.”  She lifted the hood of her robe and moved it down to rest on her shoulders.  Raising her face to Castor’s, Feral let him take a long look at the swollen bruises on her face.

“So, CLU spanked his little pet too hard,” he said, humor still in his voice.  “And now you want to run off and join the rebels to get even?  Is that what happened?”

“No,” she said, looking away.  “No, he did…something else to me.  The beating was because I struggled too much.”

Castor looked hard at her now.  The smile appeared to have frozen stiffly on place on his handsome face.  “I…see,” he said—carefully—a moment later.  “CLU always did have a taste for unique things…as long as they weren’t ISO-related.”  He straightened and walked around the bar.

“I think that you could use a drink,” he told her.  “I know that I can use one.”  He busied himself behind the bar, mixing small amounts of different colored energies into glasses.  Taking a sip from his, he handed her a small glass filled with glowing pink energy.  “Try this,” he said.  “It might help.  You look like you could stand to relax.  Also, there is not much energy to be found in the Outlands,” he added.

Feral sat back down on one of the couches.  Taking a cautious sip, she tried the drink that she had been given.  It had a pleasant taste, and tingled slightly on her tongue as she sipped it.

“There are several different rebel groups in the Outlands,” Castor said.  “Well, on the edges of the Outlands, anyhow,” he amended a moment later.  “Are you wanting to hide away from CLU forever; or did you want to join a more active group and raid or fight against him?”

“I had not really thought about that,” she admitted to the program.  “All I know is that I have to get away from CLU.  Almost anything has to be better than this.”  She took another, larger drink from her glass.

“Glad to hear that you think so,” said Castor, smiling.  He finished the rest of his drink and put down his glass.  “It will make things much easier.  I assume that the further away from the city, the better?”  He began to describe various groups that he could introduce her to; telling her what their goals were, how they were trying to resist CLU, why they had rebelled, and how far away from the city, or—if still in the City—from CLU they were.  Some of the groups he told her of were not in the Outlands at all; but were in other cities on the Grid.

After listening to Castor tell her about several rebel groups for some time, Feral realized that the music from the dance floor below seemed further away, somehow.  Dimly, she noticed that Castor had stopped talking and was simply looking at her now.

“Well,” he said.  “That took much longer than I anticipated.  Even CLU’s BlackGuards could not have drunk that much and stayed active for this long.  I took the liberty of adding something to your drink...a little code of my own devising.  Something to make you more...relaxed.”

“Oh, not to worry,” he added, noting the fear in her eyes.  “I said I have no intentions of telling CLU that you are here.”  He rose from his chair and walked over to where Feral was slowly starting to slump into the couch.  Castor sat down next to her on the couch.  “You see,” Castor told her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.  “CLU is not the only one with a taste for unique things.”

I, however, do not like the idea of damaging beauty—which it seems he is willing to do.”  He moved a stray strand of hair back from her face.

Inside her mind, Feral was screaming wordlessly.  Her thoughts raced madly, as she found herself trapped in a different version of the same nightmare that she had been trying to escape from.

* * *

 

Rinzler was _not_ in a pleasant mood.  He was hoping that Feral had gotten away safely out of CLU’s reach.  He had an idea as to where she would be trying to go. 

The Outlands.

He had told her that there was nowhere on the Grid that he could take her that CLU did not know…except the Outlands.  And it was the one place that even Rinzler might not be able to find her in.  If she reached it in time, and found a rebel group or an energy source; she could evade CLU.  Feral would be safe—from CLU, at least. 

If she had reached the Outlands.

The search for Feral was made a little easier by the fact that she was on foot.  It limited how far she could have gone since escaping CLU’s quarters.  Rinzler had the guards asking about a program fitting her description in all of the areas that he had taken her to while on patrol.  No one had seen her.

Finally, a young and obviously intimidated program blurted out that he had seen _something_.  “I do not know who it was,” the program said, looking panicked as he faced a growling Rinzler.  “I could not see their face.  They were wearing a hooded robe.  But it had red-orange circuits on it,” he added hastily.  “And I have never heard of a program with circuits that color other than you.”

Rinzler’s growl grew louder and more intimidating as he motioned for the program to continue.  “They were headed towards the entertainment district,” the program told him, “that is all I know, really.”

The entertainment district.  There was only one reason a program trying to reach the Outlands would go to the entertainment district.  Feral was trying to contact Zuse.  Zuse always had a finger or two in everything that happened on the Grid.  At least two fingers, if it was illegal.  Gesturing to the guards to release the program, Rinzler started to walk in the direction of the waiting Recognizer.  He coded the Recognizer for the entertainment district.  They would know where she was at the End of Line. 

If she had managed to make it that far….

* * *

 

The End of Line was already busy when Rinzler and some of the BlackGuard arrived.  As the guards fanned out through the club; Rinzler scanned the lower level of the club.  Let the guards search the crowd for Feral.  He was looking for Zuse. 

When he did not locate Zuse on the lower level; Rinzler went to the dais that was coded for the stairs to Zuse’s private lounge.  Stopping only long enough to access and security over-ride the stairs to rezz them into being, he climbed the stairs leading to the lounge. 

Rinzler had expected to find Zuse in the private lounge that the program kept overlooking the club’s main floor.  What he had not expected was for the program to be sitting on a couch, relaxed, with the reason for his search.  Feral was lying on the couch, her head cushioned in Zuse’s lap.

“Rinzler,” the entertainment program exclaimed, smiling.  “This is unexpected.”  Zuse carefully rose from his seat, settling Feral’s head so it rested on the couch.  She did not say anything, but her eyes watched every move that Rinzler made.

Making his way to the bar, Zuse spoke to Rinzler.  “So, what brings the elite Rinzler to my humble club?” He turned toward the enforcer.  “Can I get you a drink?”

An intimidating growl came from Rinzler as he looked at the program.  Raising a hand, he pointed at Feral as she lay on the couch.

“You came to retrieve CLU’s little pet?  Well, as you can see, she is perfectly fine.  Why don’t you leave her here for a little while longer to finish resting?  CLU seems to have been a little…rough with his toy.  I can have someone bring her back to CLU afterwards.  I will even send her with one of your guards, it you like.”

Rinzler could not explain why, but he knew that Feral should not stay here.  He looked back to where she lay, apparently watching them.  Why did she not say something?  Shaking his head, his growl grew louder as he pointed to her again. 

Smiling, Zuse said, “Why do we not see what she wants to do?  If she wants to go now, all she has to do is say so; or, simply get up and leave with you now.  If not, then leave a guard or two to escort her back after she is rested.  Poor darling does look tired, after all,” he continued, his voice sympathetic.

 

* * *

 

Feral watched the two programs as Zuse spoke to Rinzler.  She was near panic at the thought of being trapped—unable to speak or move.  If Rinzler left her alone with Castor….  Castor was still trying to talk Rinzler into leaving without her; saying that he would have her escorted back to CLU after she had ‘rested’.  

Desperately, she concentrated all of her willpower and strength on moving the fingers of her hand.  Fighting the effects of the drink as much as she could, she managed to twitch her fingers.  The slight movement encouraged her; and she put all of her being into signing four letters over and over.

 _H_.

 _E_. 

 _L_. 

 _P_.

* * *

 

Rinzler was feeling more agitated as he stood there listening to Zuse.  What the program was saying made sense; however, the nagging feeling that something was wrong was getting more pronounced.  Why did Feral not say anything?  Was she merely trying to stay out of CLU’s reach for as long as possible?  He turned his head back to look at her again.  She was still lying on the couch in the same position as before; but one thing was different.  It was her hands.  Specifically, one of her hands.  Slowly, laboriously, she was _spelling_ something.  He noticed the tear that was slowly making its way down her face as he read her message.

 _Help_.

A sound like an electronic snarl ripped through the room as Rinzler’s helmet whipped around to lock onto Zuse; his unseen gaze somehow almost tangible as he focused on the entertainment program.  The smile on the other program’s face faltered, then fell, at the sound of Rinzler’s snarl.

Ignoring the stammered excuses that came from the white-haired program; Rinzler strode over to where Feral lay on the couch, still trying to finger-spell out her plea for help.  He scooped up the helpless User, cradling her in his arms.  Turning back, he carried her as he walked to the stairs, growling as he passed an unsmiling Zuse.  Without stopping, he continued to carry her down the stairs and out of the club, signaling to the other guards with a jerk of his head to leave as he did so.  He did not stop until he had Feral onboard the waiting Recognizer.

Once inside the Recognizer, Rinzler gently set her down so she could sit upright, leaning into a corner for support.  With his thumb he wiped away the tears that had traced their way over her face; signing as he did so.  ‘ _Are you hurt_?’ he asked her.  A moment passed as she made the sign for ‘no’.  Relieved, he nodded his understanding.  Rinzler stood and turned away, standing guard between her and the rest of the BlackGuard.  He remained there—unmoving—as the Recognizer rose into the air and began the return trip back to CLU.

* * *

 

Picking her up when the Recognizer stopped, Rinzler carried Feral in his arms as he made his way into the building that contained CLU’s quarters.  They were met inside by CLU.  Looking at her as she was carried in by Rinzler, CLU sighed. 

“Feral,” he said, “how many times are we going to have to go through this?”  Dismissing the rest of the guards, CLU motioned to Rinzler.  “Bring her up to my quarters,” he told the security program.

Rinzler followed the system administrator up to CLU’s quarters.  Once inside the room, CLU turned his attention to the User carried in Rinzler’s arms.

“I think that you need another little lesson of the type you were given last,” he told her, reaching out towards her face as he did so.

“No,” Feral said, surprising both programs as she slid from Rinzler’s arms to stagger away from them.  “No, I will not let you do that to me again.”   Her voice rose, becoming slightly hysterical as she continued speaking. 

“If you do that to me, ever again, I won’t try to fade.  I _WILL KILL MYSELF_.  There is now way that you can prevent every option I have for doing that.  I swear that I will!”  She stopped and took a few deep breaths; and continued again in a slightly calmer voice.  “I will do the patrols, I will do whatever else you want; but you can’t make me _want_ to erase a program’s coding, so I will not do that.  And I will not let you touch me like that again.”

CLU looked at her as she stood there, her body shaking slightly as she forced herself to stand while the effects of the drink she had been given earlier were still wearing off.

“You would not do that,” he said, thoughtfully.  “Destroying yourself would not be logical.”

Giving a small, high-pitched laugh that sounded as if it could turn into a sob at any moment, Feral replied, “What have I done yet that is logical?”  She wrapped her arms around her chest as if hugging herself—or holding herself to keep from flying apart.

CLU continued to look at her, not saying anything, for several long moments.  Finally, he turned to where Rinzler stood, waiting. 

“I am putting you in complete charge of her,” he told Rinzler.  “She stays with you at all times.  You go nowhere without her; unless I order it otherwise.”  Giving Feral a long, considering look; CLU added, “Train her for the Games.  She will be taking part in them later.”

Waving a hand in dismissal he said, “You can go now, Rinzler.  Take her with you.”

* * *

 

Rinzler led a still shaking Feral as she stumbled down the hall towards his quarters.  The second time that she came close to falling; he merely picked her up in his arms and continued to walk down the long corridor.   
He could feel tears on her face as she pressed herself tightly against his chest, curling up tighter into his arms.  She continued to cry—silent and unmoving—as he carried her into his quarters. 

Carrying her over to the bed; he set her down upon it.  Lifting her head, he began to wipe away her tears with his fingers.  ‘ _You are safe here,’_ he signed to her.  ‘ _You do not need to cry.’_

Feral looked up at him, solemnly, her eyes still wet and shining from her tears.  In a voice that was nearly a sob, she said, “Thank you.”

‘ _For what?’_ he signed, puzzled.  ‘ _I did nothing.  You stopped CLU from hurting you on your own_.’

She shook her head.  “You didn’t leave me with Castor,” she told him.  “I couldn’t get away, or move; and you did not leave me there with him.”

‘ _At first, I wondered if I should,_ ’ he admitted. ‘ _I thought that you would want to delay returning as long as possible.  But something did not feel right.”_

_When I realized what had happened…my orders form CLU are the only thing that kept me from derezzing him.  Such things are not allowed on the Grid…on ANY system.  At least, they were never tolerated before.  Now, I have to wonder.’_

Rinzler took a deep breath and pointed his helmet straight at her face.  ‘ _CLU wants you to be trained for the games.  I will teach you everything that I can.  You will be able to protect yourself against the dangers that exist on the Grid.  Maybe, by doing this, I can help protect you from CLU; even if I have to follow his orders.’_

 _Do you want me to teach you these things?’_ he asked her.

Feral looked up at him with the determination that had caught his attention the first time he saw her.

“Every bit of it,” she said.  “Every last thing that you can teach me.”

Rinzler looked at her and gave a firm nod of his head.  _‘It will not be easy, training,’_ he warned her. _‘But I will teach you.  Try to get some rest.’_   “Do not worry,” he added, his voice a somehow gentle growl.  “I will keep you safe while you sleep.”

Feral nodded, trusting him.  She lay down on the bed and tried to relax.  Before long, she had fallen into an exhausted sleep.


	11. Beginning Training

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No one said that training with Rinzler would be easy; however, it sometimes comes with unexpected results....
> 
> "...I’m still not good enough to make it to the top level of the games. If CLU lets someone goad him into making me fight soon, I won’t make it..." 
> 
> Rinzler straightened and said—in a firmer, more determined—voice, “Come on. We will continue with your training. You will learn as much as you can, and as fast as you can. Every lesson will help..."
> 
> Song List for this chapter: 'Adagio for Strings' by Samuel Barber, performed by the BBC Orchestra  
> 'Fight Club' by Tom Waits  
> 'We Are Going To Be Friends' by The White Stripes

Rinzler had not exaggerated how difficult the training would be.  He began by showing Feral a map of the Grid sectors that they had patrolled previously.  When he was convinced that she could name and locate all of the sectors and the major areas of each, he told her that she would learn more later on patrols.  Rinzler then took her to the small training arena on the same floor as their quarters.

‘ _I do not want other programs watching you train at this point,’_ he had told her when she questioned why they did not go to the larger arena like most of the trainees.  ‘ _It is safer if they do not know what your limits are at this point.’_

‘ _How would they know?’_ Feral asked him.  ‘I _don’t know what they are yet.’_

‘ _Perhaps not,’_ he replied.  _‘However, you are about to find out…’_

He had then begun training her for disc wars.  Long before Rinzler let her rest at all, Feral was panting for breath and aching painfully in every muscle.

“Can I just take a short break?” she asked wistfully at one point.

Rinzler had shaken his head.  _‘No.  Now is when you need to push yourself harder,’_ he had explained.  ‘ _Your enemies will never let you rest because you are tired.’_   And push her harder he had.

Later in each microcycle, Rinzler would take her out to do patrols with him—aching muscles and all.  Each time it became a little easier for her to keep up.

 

Occasionally, CLU would order her to join him when he went somewhere.  Sometimes, he wanted her to stand there quietly while he was in a meeting.  Other times, he wanted her to follow him as he made a show of attending the games.  The knowledge that CLU was showing her off to the Grid like a well-trained pet chafed her.  Feral had quickly learned that her refusal to follow CLU’s orders had been well known by the programs on the Grid.  Apparently, some of them had even had bets going in a few of the entertainment clubs.  And now, CLU was using her to show the rebels that fighting was useless; that eventually, even she had stopped fighting.  It burned her to follow CLU’s orders; however, she would not risk him punishing her with another circuit overload again.

Feral had not told Rinzler about the memories and nightmares that the punishment had unearthed inside of her.  Rinzler was aware of the nightmares.  More than once, he had been awakened by her crying out in her sleep.  Each time, he had woken her.  He would wait for her to calm; reminding her that they were alone, and that she was safe.  He never mentioned them later. 

Rinzler had his own nightmares that he fought.  Feral never mentioned them afterward, either.

 

* * *

 

 

“Don’t you do anything else besides hand-to-hand?” Feral asked Rinzler one day during a training session.  She was panting as she tried to catch her breath.  “I mean, I’ve seen the arena.  There’s a huge area that I’ve never seen used before.  They don’t seriously hold disc wars there, do they?”

Rinzler shook his head.  ‘ _No, it is not for disc wars,’_ he signed, standing easily. 

Feral looked up at him, trying to squash the slight twinge of annoyance that she felt when she saw that he wasn’t even breathing faster.  He looks like he hasn’t done anything more exerting than walking across an empty room, she thought to herself.  At this rate, she would be too old and grey to use the skills she was learning before she could keep up with Rinzler.  “Then what…”  she paused, trying to slow her breathing enough to talk, “…what do you do there?”

‘ _Disc wars are one of the two games that CLU plans to have you compete in.   When you are good enough at this portion of your training,_ ’ Rinzler signed, ‘ _I will show you._ ’

She straightened up and took a deep breath.  Taking the initiative, Feral attacked Rinzler, trying to drive him back. 

Feral heard him give a small chuckle at her renewed enthusiasm.  The sound made her grin.  She treasured hearing anything that sounded like a laugh from the stoic security program.  Dealing with CLU tended to make one less relaxed and light-hearted. 

And Rinzler had been forced to obey CLU for cycles.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Feral watched as Rinzler demonstrated a new maneuver.  He went through the steps in slow-motion, giving her time to see and understand how each step led to the next. 

After the third time that she showed no improvement when she went through the motions of the maneuver herself, he straightened up with an irritated growl. 

“What is distracting you?” he asked her bluntly, as he crossed his arms over his chest.  “You are not focusing on what you are doing.”

Feral looked at him guiltily.  “I’m sorry,” she said.  “I’ll do better this time.”

“No, you will not,” Rinzler said, flatly.  “You are running some other process in your head, and it will get you killed if it happens when you are dealing with a real opponent.  I will not let you continue until you tell me what the problem is.”

Now it was Feral’s turn to be irritated.  Rinzler was as good as his word.  If he said that he would not let her continue, she would not get a chance to practice _anything_.  She leaned back, slumping against the wall behind her.  Shifting her gaze to the side, Feral mumbled something.

“If you are going to say something so that I cannot hear it; at least have the courtesy to sign it,” he told her, exasperation tinging his rough voice.

“I said, ‘It’s CLU’…” she said in a louder, clearer voice.  She instantly had Rinzler’s full attention.

“What about CLU?” he asked.  Feral could hear the concern in Rinzler’s voice.  It made her want to smile.  Her friend, the most dangerous program on the Grid; and the thing that he worried about the most was her.  No one—not even CLU—would believe it if they saw it.

“He was bragging in a meeting to one of the other programs about how he has you training me for the Games.  He told them that soon, he would have _two_ Grid champions.”  She drew in her breath, and continued.  “Rinzler, you’ve been training me for what feels like almost three years; and I’m still not good enough to make it to the top level of the games.  If CLU lets someone goad him into making me fight soon, I won’t make it at this rate.  I need to learn more, faster.”  There was only the small trace of fear evident in her voice at the thought, but her frustration was evident.  She sighed and let her head fall back against the wall with a ‘thump’.

“I don’t know what to do about it.  I don’t know of a way to learn faster than I already am; and I’m not about to go beg CLU to stop talking about it.”

Rinzler shook his head.  “I do not know what to do, either,” he admitted.  “If you really were a program, we could try to get you some new code, or upgraded combat subroutines.  A User, however…I just do not know….”  Uncertainty colored his voice. 

Rinzler straightened and said—in a firmer, more determined—voice, “Come on.  We will continue with your training.  You will learn as much as you can, and as fast as you can.  Every lesson will help keep you functioning.”   He took a few steps so that he stood before her and extended his hand.  Feral looked at his hand for a moment, and then reached out to take it.  Rinzler helped her to pull herself upright. 

“You’re right,” she said.  “Whatever I can learn will have to be enough.  Let’s go over that move one more time.  This time, I _WILL_ get it down.”

 

* * *

 

 

They went out on patrol later that night.  At least, Feral insisted on calling every third millicycle ‘night’.  She also called the other millicycles ‘day’.  While Rinzler did not feel that this was accurate, he had heard the term so many times now that he did not ever have to think about her meaning when she used them.

They were patrolling the section of the city where the Recognizers were kept and maintained.  There was very little activity in the area most nights.  With no other programs around to observe them, Rinzler would randomly snap out the name of a fighting or blocking maneuver to Feral.  If she was paying attention _and_ performed it correctly, she found herself successfully blocking a strike or other form of attack from him.  If she did not, well, she was going to have more than one bruise tomorrow, she thought, ruefully. 

‘ _Every blow is a lesson,’_ Rinzler told her, the circuits on his hands allowing her to see him clearly as he signed to her.  ‘ _Every block is a test you have passed. **Pay more attention, Feral.**   I might not give you **any** warning for the next one.’_

She had just drawn back—breath hissing through her teeth at the pain—from a tender area left from an unsuccessful block.

“Yeah, I know…pain is just weakness leaving the body,” she grumbled at him; remembering an old saying a friend had once told her.

Rinzler cocked his head at her.  ‘ _Is that how it processes for Users?’_ he signed, curious.  ‘ _I have never heard of it doing so for a program before…._ ’

Feral shook her head.  “No, it’s just a saying,” she told him.  “Users sometimes say it to—“

A small crash as something fell in the darkness nearby interrupted her.  They both turned rapidly towards the sound; trying to identify the source.  Had someone overheard them?

“There had better not be someone spying on me,” Feral all but snarled out; angry at the thought of CLU possibly having sent a guard to spy on her.

A small flash of light and a ‘no’ came from the same area as the previous crash.  Next to her, Rinzler relaxed as most of the tension left him. 

‘ _It is just a bit,_ ’ he signed.  ‘ _Probably a stray one, since it is out here.’_ “You are alone, are you not?” he asked the bit aloud.

“Yes.”  The bit changed shape as it answered.  The bit floated a little closer.  It was a small polygon sphere that appeared to be made up of light, floating in the air. 

“What is it?” Feral asked Rinzler, entranced.  She could not take her eyes off of it, tilting her head up to try to get a better look.  She took a small step closer to it.  Feral gazed raptly at it, obviously curious.

“It is a bit,” Rinzler told her.  “Some programs keep them as companions, like a User pet.”

“So it’s like a very small program?” she said, not taking her eyes off of the bit as it floated and spun slowly.

“No, it is a bit of information.  It is not as big as a program.  It does not even have enough information to be a byte.”’

“Does it say anything else, besides ‘yes’ and ‘no’?”

“No.”

“No.”

Feral gave a small laugh as the bit and Rinzler both answered her at the same time.

“They have only two possible states…” he told her, “…they can be ‘on’ or ‘off’.  It is why they only say ‘yes’ or ‘no’.”

Feral addressed her next question to the bit.  “Are you alone out here?”

“Yes.”

“I thought you said that programs keep them as companions and pets,” she asked Rinzler over her shoulder.

“They do.  There are wild ones, living in the Outlands; but most of the bits you find on the Grid belong to a program.”

“Are you lost?” Feral asked the bit, starting to feel concerned.

“No.”

“Is your program lost, then?”

“No.”

“You _do_ have a program, don’t you?”

“No.  Yes.  No.”

She frowned slightly at this answer.  “What does that mean?” she asked Rinzler.

“It can be hard to tell with a bit,” he said.  “Think of it as a guessing game.”

Turning her attention back to the bit, she tried again.

“Do you belong to a program now?”

“No.”

“ _Did_ you belong to a program before?”

“Yes.”

“What happened that it doesn’t have a program anymore?Do programs just…abandon them; or what?” she asked Rinzler, feeling confused.

He took a step closer to her in the alleyway, shaking his head as he did so.  “Usually when you find a bit like this, its program has been rectified…or derezzed.  If no one finds it and takes it in soon, they become strays.”

“The poor thing!” Feral exclaimed, pity in her voice as she turned her attention back to the bit.  “Come here little guy; I won’t hurt you,” she crooned to the bit, holding her hand out towards it and raising it slowly.

“Be careful,” Rinzler warned.  “If it feels threatened it can….”

“Ah-ow!” she said, pulling her hand back and shaking her fingers.

“….shock you,” finished Rinzler.  “You should just leave the bit alone.  Maybe it will find enough energy soon if you do.”

“What do you mean ‘find enough energy’?” she asked, rubbing her shocked fingers against her leg as she watched the bit—albeit with a slightly warier expression now.

“It expended some of its energy to shock you; and it looks like it did not have that much to begin with.  If it stays here instead of finding energy, it will go into a forced shut-down and crash,” he explained.

The bit did look dimmer, she realized.

“There is not a lot of energy that can be accessed easily around here,” Feral said.  “What happens if it leaves and still doesn’t find any energy? Or if it just doesn’t find enough?  It will still shut-down or crash, right?” she asked, looking back at where Rinzler stood.

“Most likely,” he told her.  “Why?”

  Feral looked down for a moment.  She appeared to be thinking.  She shook her head and looked up, a determined look on her face.  

“Not going to happen,” she said.

“Feral,” Rinzler asked.  “Exactly what are you planning?”

She ignored the question as she poured a small amount of energy from the vial that she always carried into the cupped palm of her hand.  Holding her hand out and up, she began to try coaxing the bit once more.

“It’s okay.  I won’t hurt you,” she coaxed.  “I’m sorry if I scared you earlier.  Come get some energy.”

“If you feed it, it will try to make you its new program,” Rinzler said warningly.  “If you aren’t going to be able to take care of it, then you need to pour that energy somewhere for it…and leave.  Now.”

“If I do, this little guy might not make it through the cycle,” Feral replied, never taking her eyes off of the bit.

Standing behind her, Rinzler shook his head.

“I do not like it, either,” he said in a resigned voice.  “However, that is the way it is, sometimes.  You have to accept—“

“No, I don’t,” she said, turning and practically hissing the words at him.  She looked at Rinzler through slightly narrowed eyes.  “What are the odds that CLU being in control led to a program-less bit?”  She looked very much like she was living up to her name at the moment.  “No one has to risk derezzing tonight.  Not even a bit.  I can take care of it.”  Her voice and eyes softened as she continued.  “We both know what it feels like to be alone.  I can change that for this bit, at least.”

Rinzler shook his head again and sighed.  “Feral, please…” he said in a quiet voice, his growl soft.  “Just leave the bit alone.  It is not a good idea to try and take it with you.”  His voice was both resigned and sad as he spoke.  “I know you want to help; however it is not safe for you _or_ the bit.  To have something that you care about around CLU….”  Rinzler’s voice trailed off as he looked away.  He started to walk back to the Recognizer.

Feral stood in the alleyway, the bit almost forgotten; a stricken look on her face. 

She turned her attention back to the bit.  “He’s right,” she told the bit.  “It isn’t safe to be around me.”

“Here,” she said, pouring the rest of the energy out into a small puddle.  “You drink all that you can; and find yourself another program.  One that can take care of you.  You don’t want to make me your program.”

“Yes,” the bit flashed.

“Good,” she said, relaxing slightly.  “You understand.  Take care, little guy.”  Feral turned and started to walk away, back to Rinzler and the Recognizer that stood waiting nearby.

“No,” the bit flashed, zipping in front of her to block her path. 

“What?  No!  No, you need to find another program.  Not me!”

The bit flashed “yes” as it bumped into her.

“No! Did you not hear him!  It’s not safe with me.  Go find another program.  A different program.”

“No,” flashed the bit, spikes appearing over its surface as it did so.

“Rinzler!” Feral called to him, panic in her voice.  “I think it wants to follow me!  I didn’t feed it, I swear!”

The silhouetted form of Rinzler stood at the end of the alley, the lights of the Recognizer behind him.  She could hear his resigned sigh as she stood there, the bit bumping insistently into her.

“I believe you.  I know you would not,” he replied.  “However, it is too late now.  The bit has decided that you are its program now.  It will not want to leave.”

“What do I do?” she asked, panic still coloring her voice.

“Bring it with you,” came the answer.  “But try to explain the situation to the bit, first.  Maybe it will leave on its own if you do.  Bits are stubborn, though; so do not expect it to change its mind.”

Feral turned her attention back to the bit.  “You heard what he said,” she told the bit.  “You know who CLU is, right?”

“Yes,” flashed the bit, floating and revolving in front of her again.

“Well, we spend a lot of time around CLU.  It’s not a safe place to be.  You could be hurt of derezzed.  You need to stay here, were it is safer.  Find a safer program to belong to….”

“No,” came the spiky reply.

“Please,” she asked, pleading now.  “You’ll be safer this way.  Go find a different program.  You don’t want me for your program.”

“Yes, yes, yes.”

“Just bring the bit with you, Feral,” she heard Rinzler call from the mouth of the alley.  She looked over to where the enforcer was starting to walk away again.  “We need to move on.”

“Okay, little guy,” Feral said.  “I guess you are coming with me then.  Just, if the big guy ever says that something isn’t safe, and that you should go…do it, okay?”

“Yes.  No.”

“Best I’m going to get, I think,” she muttered, half under her breath.  She started walking out of the dark alley, the bit following her looking like a tiny star in the darkness.

 

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, Feral's been adopted by a bit. Hope you like him. You'll be seeing more of the bit in future chapters.


	12. Loopholes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CLU's orders must always be followed...but sometimes Rinzler can find a loophole.
> 
> As mentioned before (this will be true throughout the entire story)  
> To avoid confusion between spoken speech and signed speech…  
> "Spoken speech…"  
> ' Italicized Signed speech…'
> 
> Song List: 'Digital' by Joy Division (beginning of chapter)  
> 'Orchestral Sinistrations' by Lords of Acid (fighting gridbugs)  
> 'Code Name: Vivaldi' by The Piano Guys (Rinzler's favorite place)

Rinzler had to admit that things were more—interesting since Feral had been adopted by the bit.

‘Spike’—as she had named the bit—followed her everywhere.  Feral told him that the bit reminded him of a dog—that was the term for a type of User companion, apparently—that she had once.

‘So, you named the bit after your dog?’ Rinzler had asked.

“No, I named him after my turtle.  Plus, he gets all spikey when he says ‘no’.”

“What is a turtle?”

“A different kind of animal that some Users keep as pets.  He was so little I wanted to give him a fierce-sounding name.”

No matter what Feral had named the bit after, Rinzler had to agree that it was devoted to its ‘program’.  During the next session they had for Feral’s combat and disc wars training the bit had flung itself against Rinzler, flashing ‘no’ repeatedly and trying to shock him.  It had taken both Feral and Rinzler several nanocycles to calm the bit and explain that she was training; and not being attacked.  Spike still did not enjoy the training sessions, and would zip around in agitation the entire time they trained.

The little bit had grown to accept Rinzler in time; a fact that Feral and Rinzler were both grateful for.  It seemed to have developed the same dislike for CLU that Feral had.  Now, she sent Spike to Rinzler whenever she had to be with CLU.  She didn’t want to risk Spike attacking CLU because she was alone—and end up with the bit being derezzed by the sysadmin or one of his guards.

The sight of the most dangerous program on the Grid being followed by a bit never failed to bring a smile to her face when she saw it.

* * *

 

Rinzler cleared his thoughts, concentrating on his current orders.  A few steps more, and he was at the door to the quarters that he shared with Feral. 

The door opened to reveal an unexpected scene.   A User being chased around the room by an obviously upset bit.

“I’m sorry!” Feral yelled over her shoulder as she continued to try to circle around the room while staying out of what she called Spike’s ‘shock zone’.  “I didn’t realize that you weren’t out of the room.”

“No, no, no,” said the bit, zipping closer to Feral as she dodged.

“Spike!  It was an accident.  I was coming back for you when I got ordered to follow CLU to the Games!”

“No,” flashed the bit again, trying to get closer to her.

Glancing over at the door, Feral’s face brightened as she saw Rinzler standing there.  “Rinzler!  Please, help me calm Spike down.  I’m getting tired of dodging.”

“Exactly why do you have to dodge Spike?” he asked, unable to keep his amusement at the scene out of his voice.

“I accidentally shut him in here earlier.  I couldn’t return to let him out until recently; and well…he’s really upset.”

‘So I see,’ signed Rinzler, unable to stifle his gravelly chuckle completely.  “Come here, Spike,” he said to the bit, holding a hand up and out.  “I know that you are upset with her.”

The bit slowly came to Rinzler, flashing ‘yes’ as it did so.

Rinzler chuckled again.  “Don’t worry; I will make sure that you go with her the next time she leaves our quarters.”

Feral made her way over to where he stood near the door, keeping a careful eye on Spike as she did so.  A small grin started to grow on her face at the sound of Rinzler’s quiet laughter.

‘Glad to know I amuse you,’ she said.  ‘And when might I be leaving next?’

‘Now, actually,’ he told her.  ‘I have been ordered to take you with me to investigate and deal with a gridbug infestation that appeared at the outskirts of the city.’

‘And you are in such a good mood about gridbugs because…?’ she questioned.

“Because,” he said with a tone of satisfaction in his voice.  “The gridbugs have started moving towards the Outlands; and my orders have not been changed.”

Feral’s eyes widened as she looked up at Rinzler’s dark, featureless helmet.  Not for the first time, she wished that she could see his face.  She would lay odds that he was smiling behind it right now.

“Loopholes,” she breathed.

‘Exactly,’ Rinzler replied.  ‘If I take you into the Outlands once—because I am following my current orders—then the new orders take priority over the previous ones; unless CLU follows up and changes them again.  Rezz up your armor; we are leaving now.’

Behind his visor, Rinzler was smiling.  It grew into a grin as he watched the User almost drop her disc in her haste to rerezz her armor; all the while mumbling to herself that ‘…someone up there likes me…’

* * *

 

The three of them found the gridbugs easily enough.  From their vantage point, Feral looked over at the seething mass.

“Rinzler?”

“Hmm?”

“WHAT are those?”

“Gridbugs…”

“Uh-uh.  I’ve seen gridbugs, remember?  Those…those are not what you showed me….”

“These are the ones from the sea.  They’re bigger than the other ones.”

Feral gave a weak laugh.  “Yeah, just a little bit bigger…”

‘Bigger than the other ones…’ was a gross understatement in her opinion.  They were almost the size of Shetland ponies; all jointed claws and jaws to grip, tear, and rend.  The creatures were almost mindless when they sensed a food source nearby.  This time, THEY were the food source, and the gridbugs followed their steps in a voracious wave that only wanted to devour.

Rinzler had led the teeming mass of creatures further away from the city—a little at a time.  Now, they stood on the edge of the Outlands.  If the gridbugs spilled into the Outlands—even if Rinzler only had to take one step into the Outlands to deal with them—his previous orders would be over-ridden.  He would be able to show Feral all of the system, including the Outlands.

Even if she never got the chance to use the knowledge to escape, the opportunity to have a place that they could not be spied upon was irresistible.

Feral stood at the edge of the Grid, waiting nervously for the gridbugs to surround them.  She glanced out of the corner of her eye from time to time at the security program who waited; looking almost relaxed, his discs in his hands.  She knew that relaxed stance was deceptive.  When she was close enough, she could swear that she could feel the eagerness radiating from him.

Predator.

That was what Rinzler was.  And now, his preferred prey was coming to him; thinking that HE was the prey.  Rinzler reminded her of some large hunting cat.  Maybe a tiger, with that black and orange.  He ENJOYED the challenges he faced on the Grid.  And if they were not programs—were more dangerous than programs—so much the better.  He was a predator.

And he had been training her to be one…if she chose to be.

 

She didn’t know who wrote the programs that she interacted with, but they were as human as she was.  All of the hungers, desires, and wants of humans were found in them.  Watching Rinzler, waiting for the gridbugs with him…she understood.  She understood, because he had told her that she was now good enough that she could fight them with him.  She understood because she could feel the bloodlust—the desire for conflict, to feel…no, to KNOW that you were better than your opponent—rising in herself at that very moment.  She realized that Rinzler wasn’t training her to be a predator; she already was one.  He was only teaching her the skills to be a better one.

She would fight with him.  They would win.  But unlike Rinzler, she wasn’t fighting because she wanted to keep the grid safe.  Every gridbug seemed to wear CLU’s smiling face, and all she wanted to do was destroy that smile.

The gridbugs were almost surrounding them now; if the ‘bugs came much closer they would spill into the Outlands.  Closer; just a little closer…there!  Two of the bugs had crossed into the Outlands.

Rinzler attacked the gridbugs that had entered into the Outlands first, a high, thin whine coming from the spinning discs in his hands.  He slashed down at the first gridbug while flinging his disc at the second Feral had just enough time to think ‘…he doesn’t spring or snap into action.  Rinzler flows…’ before the gridbugs nearest to her were almost upon her.  She attacked the nearest, slicing at it with her disc, and dodged the snapping jaws.  Those jaws could tear a limb from her if they caught her.  She disabled it, crippling some of its legs.  Having slowed it down, she was able to derezz the gridbug.   She threw her disc at the next one, keeping it at a distance.  The gridbug gave a piercing shriek as her disc carved a gouge across one of its eyes, blinding it.  The next blow derezzed it.  And then the next gridbug was there.  And the next. 

And yet another…Feral lost track of how many gridbugs were still attacking.  Her world narrowed and compressed down to this place, this moment.  There was only the gridbug in front of her, and then the next.  She was only aware of seeing her surroundings as flashes of light or motion: Spike, frantic above her and Rinzler, flashing ‘no’ whenever a gridbug came towards her; Rinzler, leaping and twisting in mid-air to land on a gridbug’s back; a gridbug looming above her when she tripped; a cascade of pixels falling over her when she derezzed it, slashing and thrusting her disc up under its jaw.

Feral was not aware of anything but the next opponent.  Music sounded in the air around her, unheard.  Blood flowed from where she had been injured; it went unnoticed.  A voice called to her; it went unheeded.  There was only this, the need to win, to achieve her goal.  They would all fail when they came up against her.

Something landed on her shoulder, pulling at her.  She spun—disc slashing—to derezz whatever it was.

 

A moment later, panting, she looked up from the ground.  Rinzler was pinning her, a knee on her chest, her wrists trapped by his hands.

“…they are all gone,” he was saying.  “There are none left.  You can stop now.  Feral?  Are you hearing me?”

“Yes.  Yes, I hear you, Rinzler,” she said, still trying to catch her breath.  “Can I get up now?”

“I’m not sure if I should let you, yet.  You’ve tried to derezz me twice so far…”

“Oh, come on!” she told him, indignantly.  “It was only one time, and I can’t believe you’re going to hold that first fight in the arena against me…after all, you were trying to kill me, too.”  She squirmed a little, trying to shift the weight of the knee on her chest.  Was he always this heavy?

“You’ve tried to derezz me twice since you ran out of gridbugs to fight,” Rinzler said, releasing his hold on her and standing up as he did so.  He offered her a hand to help pull her to her feet.  His gridsuit was torn in places, gouges scratched into his armor by the claws of gridbug legs.  He noticed her gaze and shook his head.

“You don’t look much different,” he said to her. 

Feral looked down at herself.  He was correct in his assessment, she thought.  Her gridsuit was ripped in places, showing cuts and scrapes all over her body.  Several of them had bled, leaving sticky trails of drying blood on her.  Pixels from the derezzed gridbugs clung to her still, slowly derezzing as she watched.  She looked like she had just crawled away from a crash…or a battlefield.

“They did enter the Outlands, didn’t they?” she asked, looking back up at Rinzler.

‘They did,’ he answered.  ‘We entered the Outlands to destroy parts of the gridbug invasion, which was what we were ordered to do by CLU.  My orders are now re-prioritized and changed.  Unless CLU reissues orders to keep you out of the Outlands; the loophole will work.’  He looked around the landscape surrounding them for a moment, before his helmet swung back to face Feral.  “What would you like to see first?” he asked suddenly, satisfaction and anticipation entering into his voice.

Feral simply stared at him for a moment.  She was still trying to process the fact that she had just fought off a gridbug invasion with Rinzler, and he was planning a tour.  The incongruity of the situation suddenly struck her as incredibly funny.  She started to giggle.  The giggling quickly turned into a full-blown laugh at the thought that here she was, looking like she had escaped from a battlefield…while giggling like an idiot.

“I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head and trying to catch her breath.  “It’s just—oh, I don’t think I can explain it…”

“Alright,” she told him, taking a deep breath and trying to compose herself.  “What do I want to see first?   Hmm, where is your favorite place to go?”  

 

* * *

 

Rinzler’s favorite place to go was apparently also on the edge of the Outlands; however, it was still on the ‘developed’ Grid.  Not that it looked developed….

He took Feral even further away from the city.  The route that he took her by was still more…raw…than the areas she had seen before.  Feral lost track of the time as she watched the scenery go by from the lightrunner’s windows.  After a while, Rinzler stopped the lightrunner.

‘We are here,’ he signed, and exited the dune-buggy like vehicle.  Feral quickly scrambled out of the lightrunner to follow him.

“Where’s ‘here’?” she called after the tall program who was making his way to the top of a small rise.  “Rinzler?”

He turned slightly, silhouetted against the sky.  “Come and see,” he said, holding a hand out in invitation.

Feral scrambled up to the top of the rise to stand next to him and looked down the other side.  The sight before her took her breath away.

“It’s amazing,” she said in an awestruck voice.

“It is the Sea of Simulation,” Rinzler told her.  There was both satisfaction and sadness in his voice as he spoke.

The sea stretched out before them, going on to the horizon.  Waves rolled into the shore, calm and implacable.  Below them, several large rocks jutted into or rose out of the water; making what resembled a jetty like the ones from her childhood.  Further off in the distance, what looked like islands were floating in the sky.  More islands jutted up into the air beyond that.  It was….

“Beautiful,” she said softly.  “I can see why this is your favorite place to go.”  Feral started to climb down the other side of the rise so she could get closer to the sea.  Loose, flat stones slid and skidded under her boots as she made her way down the slope.  She slipped and put her arms out to catch her balance as she neared the base of the slope.  Soon she stood on a shoreline of black, flat stones that reminded her of shale or slate.  Tumbling, clicking noises sounded behind her, heralding a small shower of gravel-like stones that were sliding or dislodged by Rinzler’s feet as he followed her down to the beach.

Feral turned to see the circuit lights of the security program behind her.  The red-orange glow from his circuits helped the taller program to stand out against the dark slope behind him.

‘What do you think?’ he signed to her.

“It’s incredible,” she told him.  “What is it?  I’ve never seen or heard of anything like this before.  Not on the Grid, I mean.”

Rinzler looked out over the waters of the Sea. 

“It was one of the first things created on the Grid,” he told her, in a voice that seemed both right there—and far away; as if he were reliving—or remembering—something.  “The User who made the Grid said it was chaos; raw, untapped potentiality.  That it held both the possibility of everything—and nothing—at the same time.  Then, Flynn laughed and said it was ‘Zen’ that way.  I have never understood that part…” he mused.

Feral stood silently beside him; looking out over the dark waters as well.  Rinzler was her friend, they trusted each other; however, she had never seen or heard him so…open…unguarded…before.  She didn’t think that he realized that he had said the last part aloud.

A few minutes went by as they stood there unmoving, simply watching the sea.

Feral suddenly turned and poked the more muscular program in the arm.  “Come on,” she said to him.  “Let’s go get wet.”  She turned and was about to start walking to the water when Rinzler’s hand shot out and grabbed her arm.

“We cannot,” he told her, shaking his helmeted head ‘no’.  “The Sea is…corrupted.  It was infected with a virus.    If it touches a program’s code, they will become infected and derezz.  If it were to touch your disc, you might not derezz, but your gridsuit would.  If your disc came into contact with it; it is possible that you could be infected, too.”

She looked at him for a moment.  “So, I can get as close as I want; but I can’t touch it with my disc on?” she asked, a considering tone in her voice.

“That is correct.  You must be careful if you get near the Sea.”  He gave a jerk of the sharp point of his helmet’s chin in the direction of the rocky outcropping.  “I would recommend staying on top of those rocks if you want to have a better—closer—look.  They extend out into the deeper water, but are high enough that you will stay dry.

Feral nodded her head slowly in agreement.  She reached behind her back and undocked her disc.  “Good idea,” she said, manipulating something on her disc.  “Even better is letting you hold this for me while I go out there.”

“Go out there…?” Rinzler tilted his helmet in her direction as she handed him her disc. 

“Feral,” he asked, his voice concerned.  Warnings began to ping in him as he watched her scrambling up onto the first of the outcropping rocks.  “What are you doing?”

She continued to make her way out towards the end of the outcropping that jutted into the deep waters. 

“Feral!” he called, starting to follow her; wondering what she was planning on doing out th—was her gridsuit derezzing?  Feral had almost reached the end of the outcropping, and almost the end of her gridsuit.  Pixels continued to derezz or fall away from her body as she stepped or jumped from one stone to another.  Already her back, arms and legs were bare; and what he could see of her front seemed to be in the same condition.

She stopped and waited at the very end of the outcropping.  As the last few remaining pixels derezzed, leaving her completely bare, she gave him a mischievous look over her shoulder.

“Hey, Rinzler!” she called to him.  “Did you ever hear of skinny dipping?”  With those words, she turned and dove off the rocks into the dark waters below.

Panicking, Rinzler threw her disc on the ground and RAN.  He leapt up on the rocks, racing to the end of the outcropping to scan the waters below.

“Feral!” he screamed.  “Feral!”

There was no sign of her.  Even the ripples caused by her entering the sea were gone, swept away by the waves on their way to the shore.

Rinzler crouched at the end of the outcropping, leaning out as far as he could to try to catch a glimpse of her in the water.  If he could see her, he could…what? 

He could not touch the water to pull her out.  Even if it did not derezz him to do so, his code would not let him.  The Sea held a virus.  As a security monitor program, he was created to hunt down and destroy viruses and other system threats.  If it could not be destroyed, it must be contained.  Touching the water would turn him into a carrier for the virus, spreading it across the Grid.  His coding did not allow him to take such an action.  It would force a system shutdown on him.

There was nothing that he could do.

Rinzler screamed Feral’s name again as he continued to try to see into the water below him.  So intent was he that he almost lost his balance when she suddenly surfaced nearby, taking a deep breath as she did.

“What on the Grid did you think you were doing?!” he yelled at her; anger mixed with relief in his voice, his growl evident.

“Me!  Rinzler, what in all the names of God are you doing on that rock?!  You are so close to the water that if I had splashed more when I came up, or if I had surfaced closer, you would have been wearing half of the Sea!” she shouted back at him.

“You are in the Sea!  I told you what could happen to you…” he said, his tone almost accusing.

“Yes, well…as you can see all fingers and toes are accounted for,” Feral replied, her voice managing to sound both guilty and unrepentant as she rolled onto her back and lifted first one, then the other leg and foot out of the water for him to see.  She continued to swim near the outcropping so that she could watch him.  Back and forth she swam along the side of the outcropping, rolling and twisting her body through the water so she could keep her head above the water and Rinzler in her view.

“How are you doing that?” he asked, curious, a few nanocycles later.

“Doing what?” she replied, slightly confused by the question.

“That…floating, moving thing.  How are you not sinking?”

She stopped swimming in surprise; only to switch to treading water when she did start to sink.  “Programs don’t swim?” she asked, startled.

“Swim?”

“Play or move in and through the water by themselves.  Users learn to do it if they live near water, usually.  It’s fun.”

“Surrounding yourself with water is fun?” he asked, skeptically.

“Well, it can be.  I would have thought swimming would be something that you enjoyed.  I mean…it’s a skill, it can be done for enjoyment, and if you aren’t careful enough—or pay it enough respect—it can end you.  Kind of like fighting in the Games, or dealing with gridbugs.  And I know that on a certain level, you do enjoy those things,” Feral said, giving him a long, steady look. 

Rinzler’s helmet tilted as he regarded her.  “That may be so,” he said.  “But programs do not ‘swim’.  We may immerse ourselves in energy pools on occasion; however, we do not go farther into them than we can walk out of easily.  Most programs will not even go that far,” he added.

  
“Well, if there is a large enough pool for us to use one day; I will teach you how to swim,” Feral told him.   
I mean, if you want to learn,” she added almost shyly.

“Perhaps one day,” he replied.

She continued to swim back and forth in the water near the rocks; occasionally diving back into the inky waters to swim beneath the surface for a while.  After seeing how much it alarmed him the first time she did so, Feral began warning Rinzler before ducking beneath the water’s surface.  Once he was convinced that she was not going to derezz, and appeared to be comfortable with what she was doing in the Sea, some of the tension left Rinzler’s body.  He watched as she swam in the waters around the rocks that he perched on.  Feral had not seemed this relaxed to him when at any other area of the Grid.

“What does it feel like?” he asked her abruptly.  “Being in the water?”

She turned and swam closer to the rock.  “It feels like freedom,” she told him.  Seeing him cock his head to the side, she elaborated.

“Out here, in the water, I can go where ever I want.  I am limited only by my own strength, and the need for air.  I can move in any direction, go as far as I am strong enough to go, and CLU can’t touch me while I am in the water.  If I could stay here forever, I would only come out to see you and Spike.”

Rinzler thought over what she said, and then nodded.  ‘I can understand wanting to be free from CLU,’ he signed.

Feral swam a little closer to where he waited on the rocks and stopped, treading water as she looked at him.  “Scoot over, please,” she asked.  “Just make sure that you have a way to get back to shore from where you move to…”

Rinzler looked at her for a moment and then rose and moved from where he had been crouched on the rock; choosing to rest on a section of the outcropping that was closer to the shore.  Once he had settled down to wait, Feral swam up to the edge of the outcropping.  Placing her hands on the rock, she lifted herself out of the water onto the outcropping.  She twisted her body as she did so, stopping when she sat on the edge of the outcropping—her feet still in the water, and looked out over the Sea.  Rinzler waited where he was.  Water was still streaming down her body, running from her hair and off of her skin.  When the puddles around her stopped growing would be soon enough to come closer.

He glanced over at her, curious.  He had never seen a User without clothing or a gridsuit covering their body; and had never seen a female User at all before Feral came to the Grid.  She resembled the female programs that he had seen with a few differences.  The most notable of which was her complete lack of circuits on her skin.

Rinzler found himself staring at Feral; wondering what it was like to have no circuits.  She had said that Users had nerves—which were apparently like circuits—and that they did not match up with circuits on their clothes.  She had never said that they didn’t have circuits at all…  What must it be like to go through one’s entire existence that way?  Did it dull or dim their senses?  When he thought about the way programs interfaced—lining up their circuits so that they touched, and then opening up their code to each other in the most intimate form of connection found in a system—he could not help but feel sorrow for the Users for being unable to share that kind of intimacy.  The realization of where such thoughts could lead caused him to turn away hastily.

Feral noticed Rinzler turning away from her.  He suddenly seemed…unsettled.  She looked down at the rock she was sitting on, determined not to pull away.  “Am I making you uncomfortable?” she asked, not looking up from the rock beneath her.

“No,” he replied.  However, Feral noticed that he seemed to be looking at anything and everything _but_ her.  She idly traced patterns on the gritty surface of the rock beside her with her fingers for a few moments before sighing.

“If I had realized that me being naked was going to be such an issue I would not have gone skinny-dipping.  At least, I would have stayed in the water.  I thought that since I’m about as interesting to look at here as ‘digital Barbie’ it wouldn’t be a problem,” Feral mused.  “I’ll stay in the water next time.  I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

Rinzler shook his head.  “No, it is not you,” he said.  “I was staring; it was rude of me.  I have never seen a User without User clothing or a gridsuit on before, much less a female one….”  His voice trailed off.

“And you were curious,” she finished.  “You looking doesn’t bother me, Rinzler.  I got comfortable with myself a long time ago.  Heck, you can even ask me questions if you think of them.”  She shrugged.  “It’s just me, that’s all.  Well, most of me…there’s some things that apparently don’t translate digitally.”

They sat silent on the rocks, looking out over the Sea.  Several moments went by before Rinzler spoke again. 

“It’s the fact that you don’t have circuits,” he blurted out.  “Flynn explained one that Users experience something similar to a circuit overload when they try to create a new User…” he said hesitantly.

“At least half of the ones involved, yeah,” she answered; a small smile playing about her lips.

“Programs usually overload together because they enjoy being with one another; they interface so that they can know each other better, as well as give each other pleasure….”

Feral waited a moment before prompting him with an encouraging, “Keep going…”

“I realized that—without circuits—Users must not be able to experience the same intimacy and pleasure as programs,” he told her.  “I understand that you have to create new Users; it just seems as though it must be lonely for Users.”

“The term is ‘sex’, or ‘having sex’, or even ‘making love’.  While it is how Users reproduce naturally, it is also done solely for pleasure,” Feral said.  “Which we have even without circuits,” she added dryly.  “It can bring Users closer together.”

A few more moments went by.

“It can also be lonely,” she said quietly, looking at the waves moving below.  “Especially when you are with someone that….”

“Never mind,” Feral said, abruptly.  “Not part of this conversation right now.”

They sat quietly for a while longer without speaking, content to watch the waving sea at their feet.

“Why didn’t you tell me about circuit overloading?” Feral demanded suddenly.   “Why didn’t you say _SOMETHING_ before CLU…” she stopped speaking, her mouth tight.

“It is not an easy subject to introduce,” Rinzler said.

“You should have at least tried!” she said, her voice louder.

“What was I supposed to say?” he demanded.  “How are you doing today, Feral; and oh, do you touch your circuits when you are alone?  What would you have done if I asked you _THAT_?”

“I would have said ‘no’!” she yelled at him, her hand clenched in an angry fist at her side.  “And then I would have asked you _why_ I would want to so.  It would have been incredibly awkward; and when we were done talking, I would have at least known that what he did to me was possible.  I would not have found out something in that way again!”

“Again?” Rinzler’s helmet had snapped up to face her at the last word uttered. 

Feral’s face paled as she realized what she had just said.

“Feral, what did you mean…again?” he asked.

She turned away to face the Sea once more.

“Rinzler, bad things happen to Users on the other side of the computer screen as easily as they do here.  Maybe easier.” 

Especially if you are not as strong or dangerous as others.  Most User females are not as strong as the males, and usually lack combat skills.”  Her voice was quiet and sounded tired as she continued speaking.  “If you are a female, it means that you are made aware of what can happen to you.  You can at least _try_ to partition it away in your mind; because you have known it was a possibility.  You try to ...go away while it happens.  If you didn’t know it was a possibility, you can be trapped there with your mind unable to disengage.  You are forced to experience it—not as something that happened to you—but as something that happened with you.  Often you find you can’t hide away even if you _did_ know it could happen to you.”

I found out about some bad things when I was young.  And I didn’t like learning about them that way.”

It was quiet for several nanocycles before either of them spoke again.      

“You never said.  I’ve known you for almost 5 cycles, and you have never before said—“  Rinzler began.

“Yeah, well.  It happened a long time ago,” Feral said, cutting Rinzler off before he could continue.   “It was ugly, it was wrong, and now it is my past.”  She let out a small sigh.  I could let it define what I was, or I could move on with my life.  So I moved on.” 

She looked away, out over the dark water that continued to roll in to wash upon the shore.  Several long nanocycles went by in this fashion, with the waves and Rinzler’s muted growl supplying the only sounds.

“I can see why this is your favorite place,” she told him finally.  “It reminds me of some of the places I liked to visit before I came to the Grid.  I wish I could show them to you.”

There was a pause, and then Rinzler’s rough voice was heard.  “Perhaps you will tell me about them, sometime?”

Feral turned her head to look at him and gave him a small smile.  “Yes,” she said.  “Perhaps I will.  In the meantime; however, I think that I should get my disc and rezz up my gridsuit.”  With that said Feral pulled her feet up under her and stood.  She turned and walked back down the length of the rocky outcropping, towards the waiting shore. 

A few nanocycles later, Rinzler rose and followed her. 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song List: 'Digital' by Joy Division (beginning of chapter)  
> 'Orchestral Sinistrations' by Lords of Acid (fighting gridbugs)  
> 'Code Name: Vivaldi' by The Piano Guys (Rinzler's favorite place)
> 
> For my betas who pointed this out...yes, I am playing a little fast and loose with the timelines/music release dates vs.  
> Tron: Legacy/Feral entered the Grid timeline.  
> I would say "sue me..." however, I already asked you guys not to...
> 
> Instead I shall say, "Pbbtthhhhttt....."
> 
> A note on the gridbugs... I alway saw the regular 'normal' gridbugs as being approximately the same size as a rat; and just as dangerous. One might not be to bad to deal with; one thousand would not be fun...
> 
> But when you throw the Sea that generated the ISOs into the mix...I couldn't help but wonder what else was waiting to be birthed from it; especially after the Sea was poisoned. Enter my brain's view of the sea-birthed gridbugs. Their swarms may be smaller (20 instead of 1200, for example); however (this is where my brain laughs evilly) a swarm is just as dangerous to deal with, and a bit more intimidating for a User to see than a 'normal' gridbug.
> 
> Not something that a system administrator or security program would allow to roam unchecked through the Grid.


	13. I Love Them All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CLU is injured. Feral wants to know why Rinzler reacts the way he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was told that it would be more helpful to have the song list at the top of the chapter, than at the end.  
> You're right (you know who you are) and so...
> 
> Song list for this chapter: Running Up That Hill by Placebo

 

It was a form of chaos, and CLU utterly despised it.

Something had finally failed in the sector’s coding, some small coding flaw that had slowly accumulated and gained mass, and now entire blocks of Chi sector were destabilizing.  The potential damage to the Grid would be severe enough that CLU had immediately headed to Chi sector himself to avert it, ordering Rinzler to accompany him. 

It hadn’t taken CLU long to decide on a course of action.

“Rinzler!” he snapped.  “Take Feral with you and oversee the full evacuation of all programs from this sector.  Data save and retrieval is secondary priority.”  He turned towards the security program that was already moving.  “Get this sector cleared!”

Rinzler had already signaled the nearest of the security programs tasked with this sector even before CLU finished speaking.  The safety of the Grid’s programs was always one of Rinzler’s top priorities, and now he was operating with CLU’s full approval and authority behind him. 

Mere nanocycles later, the evacuation alarms were sounding as programs came running out of buildings, heading for stable code.  CLU stood on the edge of the sector, programs parting around him like water around a stone in a stream as they ran or drove past; some on foot, others driving or riding lightrunners and lightcycles.   Many programs were carrying what they had deemed to be their most important pieces of data; others with their hands empty, trusting data saved onto their discs to be enough.

Even as the programs move past him to reach safety, CLU was kneeling and attempting to gain sysadmin access to the sector; trying to find some way to stabilize and save it, ordering more sentries to cut all other Grid connections to the sector as he did so.

The administrator reached deep into the coding; feeling frustrated that he was barely able to brush the surface of code that a User would have been able to immerse themselves in.  Yet one more thing that the Grids’ original User had failed to deal with; one more betrayal that CLU had been left with.  If he had been given more access, or if the flaw had been located and dealt with properly…. 

CLU routed those thoughts to his lowest priority sub-routine.  This…this was the priority now; and if he couldn’t find a way to stabilize the sector enough—and soon—it would collapse and possibly take more of the Grid with it when it did so.  He couldn’t— _wouldn’t_ —allow that to happen.

The last of the programs ran by him to the crowd of programs waiting far enough away from the sectors edge to be secure.  He could hear them behind him, murmuring in nervous voices, afraid to come any closer to the unstable code. 

CLU could almost _feel_  the flaw in the coding now, a tiny little error that had slowly—ever so slowly—built up over the course of over a thousand cycles.  The Leader halted the error; routing processes past it to avoid it building up more momentum.  He couldn’t feel if it was in time to save the sector; Chi’s entire sector could still collapse if he could not find a way to deal with the error. 

It would have to be removed.  At least two of the blocks of coding that made up Chi sector were destabilized beyond repair.  An entire folder would need to be deleted.

The administrator program looked around franticly.  Rinzler had to be nearby; the last of the programs read as having been moved to safer areas of the sector.  The security program was the only one he could count on to have the ability to quarantine away the damaged areas of the sector, leaving only a small connection where CLU knelt in the roadway.  A nanocycle later, he spotted the distinctive red-orange glow of Rinzler’s circuits.  Even more telling was the expanding circle of space surrounding Rinzler as the other programs moved away from him, even as Rinzler handed over the injured program he had been carrying to a team of medics.

CLU sent an alert to Rinzler, signaling his need to the security program.  He watched as the sharp planes of the system monitor’s helmet turned towards him, Rinzler’s attention seeming to focus on him before Rinzler dipped his head in acknowledgement of the order.    Immediately, the tall, black-clad form moved to an area that would allow him to raise a quarantine field around the damaged sector coding; sealing it away from curious or unwary programs save for the small area that CLU knelt on to access the sector’s code.

A moment later, the sysadmin could sense the quarantine field being raised nearby.  With the knowledge that the system was protected from additional damage being done by the sudden removal of the folders that made up this part of the Grid, CLU turned his full attention to the damaged code before him.  Using his administrator privileges, he gritted his teeth and _reached_ for the code strands that—when pulled—would cause the folder’s coding to unravel, making it possible for it to be deleted completely. 

CLU could feel his system access snag on the required code lines, teasing them out of the programming code that made up this portion of Chi sector.  As soon as the last tag line read as free, he grabbed them with his coding…and _PULLED_ , deleting the damaged blocks of coding completely.  The sudden drain on his resources was immense; drawing a loud, inarticulate cry from CLU as he forced the now deleted folder into a recycle bin while the system began to request an immediate defrag cycle.  Alarms began to shrill within CLU’s head as his coding signaled the potential for compromised integrity if system administrator privileges continued to be accessed at such high rates without immediate energy uptake.

 

* * *

 

Rinzler reached out and caught Feral’s arm, pulling her back from the sheer edge that dropped off like a cliff where there had previously been a coded roadway.  She stumbled forward with a sharp intake of air.

Glancing back over her shoulder, Feral looked at the gaping expanse behind her.

‘ _What…where did it go?’_ she signed.

‘ _Deleted,’_ Rinzler signed back.  ‘ _Sacrificed to prevent the damage from spreading.’_

‘ _But what if there were still programs in there?  Would they have been moved to a safe place?’_

Rinzler shook his head.  _‘Everything in that area has been deleted.  There is no way to move the folder in that amount of time without moving programs or data contained within it as well.  Be careful,’_ he signed the warning to her, _‘until it is completely sealed off or replaced, anything or anyone who falls into that area will be derezzed.  There is no coding to support anything there, now.’_

Feral stared fascinatedly down at the empty space that had just recently been a thriving portion of the Grid.

‘ _How?’_ she asked, looking back up at her partner and signing the question.  ‘ _How is it CLU can delete something this…big?’_

‘ _Administrative privileges,’_ Rinzler replied, his attention going to the yellow-circuited figure still kneeling on the edge of the now absent sector section.  ‘ _He’s the only program on the system that can do so…’_

‘ _I can’t even begin to guess how much power it takes to—‘_ she stopped signing, realizing that Rinzler was not looking at her at the moment.  “Is something wrong?” she asked, frowning a little.

‘ _CLU.’_

Feral looked over at the figure that was starting to struggle to his feet. 

The sysadmin program was visibly weakened by his efforts, swaying as he tried and failed to stand.  CLU had fallen to his hands and knees, one foot sliding over the edge of the emptiness that waited to swallow anything foolish or unlucky enough to tumble in. 

Rinzler started forward, only to stop at the grip on his arm.  Looking down, he could see Feral’s hand gripping his arm just above the elbow.

“Wait,” she said her voice so low Rinzler could barely hear her.  “He’s not being attacked, hasn’t given you an order…just wait.  We could be free of him—‘

With a low growl, Rinzler shook his arm free of her hand and moved away, heading towards the administrator program that was even now trying to stand on his feet again.

Feral watched—her face still—as Rinzler reached CLU just as the sysadmin slipped; pulling CLU to safety before easing the exhausted program to the ground.  Rinzler crouched, a dark, dimly lit shape next to the brighter, thick golden circuits of the Leader.  She could see Rinzler handing a small vial of what was almost certainly energy to CLU; a suspicion that was confirmed when the dimmed glow of CLU’s circuits brightened soon after.  A nanocycle later, Rinzler straightened up to stand, guarding the administrator.

From where she waited, Feral could see the small circuits on her partner’s helmet moving, showing that Rinzler had turned to look at her. 

Feral continued to stand there; a cold, hard look on her face as she watched her friend and partner guarding the program that had hurt them both.

 

* * *

 

 

“Why did you so that?  You could have just let him fall, and all this would be over...  Why did you save him?”

 _‘I had to…_ ’ Rinzler signed.

 _‘NO, you didn’t.  You chose to do so.  Why?_ ’ Feral signed the question, her fingers flashing with her agitation.

_‘Can you function as the system’s administrator?  Because I cannot do so…’_

“You know that I can’t.”  Feral’s frustration was easy to hear in her voice.  “I don’t know enough about programming or how to handle code...that still doesn’t explain _WHY,_ though…”

 _‘Because the system NEEDS an administrator to be safe; and I protect the system,’_ he signed to her.

_‘It’s more than just that…you CARE for him.’_

Rinzler looked away, the ebon gloss of his helmet revealing nothing.  She looked at him for a long moment before saying softly, “You do more than care for him.  You love him, don’t you?   Even with all he’s done to the system, done to us, all he’s done to YOU; and you love him.  He’s—what?  Family?  The problem brother?”

The sharp planes of Rinzler’s helmet snapped back to focus on Feral, his growl rumbling low and quiet; a faint threat that would have frightened any other program from asking more questions.

Finally, he spoke.

“He’s a program that belongs to this system.  No matter what he’s done, he’s still one of this system’s programs.  And I care for this system’s programs; I love them in a fashion.  I love them—ALL.  Even him….”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is a little short. There will be more coming, and update time will not be as long of a wait for the next chapter.  
> I promise.


	14. Turning and Turning In the Widening Gyre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rinzler returns from accompanying CLU to find that Spike's color has been changed...by Feral.
> 
> ‘Do you understand what this means?’  
> Feral gave Rinzler a blank look.  
> “Um, apparently not,” she said out loud. “You’re going to have to explain it to me.”
> 
> Feral learns how to hack her disc...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song list for this chapter: 'Popipo' by Hatsune Miku  
> 'Romance' by Bucktick  
> 'Truth' by Audiomachine

Rinzler heard laughing as he opened the door to the quarters he shared with Feral.

He looked up as he walked in to see Feral sitting cross-legged on the floor and apparently laughing at an excited Spike.  The bit was zipping around her in random tangents, repeating ‘yes, yes, yes…’ over and over as a high-pitched voice sang an unfamiliar User song in a language he didn’t understand.

Feral was shaking her head as she talked to the bit. 

“No, I think that’s enough changing it for now.  Do you want to stay this color?”

The bit nestled up against her shoulder and flashed ‘yes’ again before flying in another circle around her.

Wait…when did Spike become orange?  When Rinzler had left earlier on orders to accompany CLU the bit’s color had been green; the same color as it was when Feral had been adopted by the bit.

Feral looked up at Rinzler from the floor and gave him a smile and a small wave.

Rinzler came closer and tilted his head as he gave Spike a considering look.  “Orange?” he asked, his growl down to an almost inaudible rumble as he crouched on his heels next to her. 

She smiled and cradled the bit in her hands when Spike settled for a moment.

“Yep.  He kept rubbing up against the circuits on my suit, so I asked if he wanted me to try to change his color to match us.”

Spike seems to like it, although he was having fun going back and forth between colors for a while.”

Curious, but cautious, Rinzler signed to her.  ‘ _How?’_

 _‘Not really certain,’_ she signed back.  ‘ _I just got my disc, and asked the code to show me what section controlled circuit color.  Once I knew what it felt like, I asked Spike’s code where the control for his color was and suggested that it change to match.’_

_It was like…a strange conversation.  I could feel it in my mind.  It felt like I could have just told his code to change.  I didn’t want him to feel like he was being forced into something, though.’_

_‘You hacked into a bit’s code?  They don’t really have enough for it to be properly called coding, and you hacked it?’_   The circuits that ran the length of Rinzler’s first two fingers flashed as he signed to her.  ‘ _Do you understand what this means?’_

Feral gave Rinzler a blank look.

“Um, apparently not,” she said out loud.  “You’re going to have to explain it to me.”

Rinzler rose from his crouch and began pacing around the room, unaccustomedly agitated.  The normally collected security program finally stopped pacing and turned to face Feral again. 

‘ _You hacked your disc, copied the coding for circuitry color, hacked a bit’s code, and then transferred your coding into the bit’s as if you were loading an upgrade into Spike,’_ he signed to her.

_If you can do that to yourself and a bit, you might be able to hack other programs.  You could give them upgrade codes; possibly even use some of their coding to give yourself an upgrade.’_

She looked at him, confusion evident on her face as she began signing her reply.

‘ _Okay, I understand the part about hacking other programs and giving them upgrades, but I have no idea what you mean when you talk about giving me an upgrade.’_

Feral leaned back, her weight propped up on arms that she had angled behind her as she looked up at the tall, black-clad program that had once more begun pacing restlessly in front of her.

“Why do I need an upgrade?” she questioned, tilting her head to the side in unconscious imitation of him as she did so.

Rinzler stopped pacing once more and stood before her, crossing his arms over his chest.

“CLU’s not going to wait much longer,” he rumbled, “before he decides to put you into the games as the final combatant.”

You are not as strong or as fast as most programs—your User body isn’t coded for it.  If you go up against a program that has fought their way to the top of the Game grid…” Rinzler’s voice trailed off at that point, unwilling to finish the thought.

Feral sat up attentively, her body straight and tight with tension, the look on her face a serious one. 

“If I go up against someone who has fought to the final level of the Games…what happens?” she asked.

Rinzler looked away, silent.

The feeling that she knew what he didn’t want to say grew stronger in Feral.  She shifted uneasily on the floor where she sat, giving in to the need to move after only a few moments more.  She stood and walked a few steps away; not wanting to leave, yet unwilling to face him as she spoke again.  She crossed her arms over her chest, her hands gripping her own upper arms tightly—as if she was afraid that she would have pieces of her body fly away or disappear if she didn’t hold on to them.

“If someone was to make it to the final round…if they faced someone with your skills and my speed and strength—would that program win?” Her voice was tense as she asked the question.

“No,” Rinzler answered, quietly.  “It is very unlikely that they would be able to beat someone with that skill level for Games or combat.”

“And without that skill level?” The question was asked in a flat, emotionless voice that the whitened knuckles of her hands gave lie to as she stood there, her gaze focused on the floor.

“I wouldn’t make it, would I?” Feral said, already knowing the forthcoming answer and tired of pretending that she wasn’t talking about herself.

Rinzler hung his head, the sharp point of his helmet coming close to his chest as he did so.  He did not want to tell her the answer—had wanted there to be no need to ever say this—however, Feral deserved the truth.

“No,” he said, lifting his head as he looked at her.    His voice was gruff, the underlying distortion that made up his growl growing more audible by the moment.  “No, without more—better—combat skills you would not survive.”

But with a combat upgrade—“

“How am I supposed to do that?” she interrupted, her head snapping up to look at him, frustration evident on her face.  “What do I do; just go up to one of the BlackGuards and say, ‘hey, give me your disc.  I’ll try to hack your code and apply it to mine…it probably won’t cause you to derezz but no guarantees on that….”

Would it be enough, even if it worked?”  Feral shook her head in denial at the thought of it.

There was no way for her to get a disc from a combat-coded program without the program realizing that she was trying to hack them, at which point they would tell CLU.  If she was good enough to defeat them, and maybe—just maybe—erase the memory of being hacked from their disc, then what was the point of trying to get their code? 

To get coding from a program that could defeat her in combat would mean she would have to derezz them, and she didn’t want to do that.  Besides, any program that good would be missed—even if she could bring herself to derezz them. 

“There’s no way to even try it,” she told Rinzler, her voice heavy.  “I can’t get the code to even find out if it would work.  Honestly, where would I even find a program that would let me try to hack their disc _at all?_ ”

Rinzler’s blank, helmeted face came up to meet her gaze.

“I would,” he told her, his voice low but steady.

Feral blinked in surprise.  There was no way that she could have just heard Rinzler say that.

Rinzler was the most secretive, private person—human or program—that she had ever met.  She had known him for over five years—almost six years—and still had no idea what his face looked like under his helmet.  And she _lived_ with him for crying out loud.  Rinzler wouldn’t even derezz his helmet all the way to intake energy when she had her back turned.

Having your disc hacked—even if you allowed it, even if you _wanted_ someone to hack it—was one of the most intimate things that could be done on the Grid; as intimate as interfacing with another program.  In some ways it could be considered even more intimate, because it opened up access to memories, skills, knowledge, even your physical being—everything that made you…you.  There was no way to hide or conceal something at that point if the person handling your code wanted to see it.

Uh-uh; no way that _Rinzler_ had just said that.  Nope.  She was just hearing things.

“I would let you.  You would need to get my combat coding anyhow, at some point.  You might as well try to hack my code first.”

There’s less chance of CLU finding out that you can hack a disc if you are only hacking mine.”  Rinzler shrugged as he added, “And if you can’t, well, at least you will know.”

Feral stood there, still blinking at him in shock.  She came back to attention, ruefully realizing with a bit of embarrassment that her mouth was hanging open.  She snapped it shut quickly, hoping that Rinzler hadn’t noticed her standing there doing and impression of a landed fish.  Well, that was probably too much to hope for.  He was the best security program on the Grid.  Noticing small things was one of the reasons he was the best.

“Are you alright?” came the question.

“What?  Yeah, yeah, I’m alright.  Why?” she asked.

“Your mouth was hanging open."

Definitely too much to hope for.  For some reason, knowing that Rinzler had noticed make her want to squirm inside.

 

* * *

 

 “You need to at least try to, Feral…”

_‘Do you realize how big of a risk this is?  What if I damage your coding, or delete part of it by accident?!’_

_‘Life is full of risks that way…’_

_‘That’s not funny, Rinzler. If I do the wrong thing—you could derezz!’_

_‘I didn’t say it to be funny.’_

“You didn’t say it at all, you signed it.”

Rinzler’s helmet was facing her as he stared silently at her, not bothering to reply to Feral’s remark.

“Creator of all…please, don’t let this be a bad idea…”

“Does it really make a difference if it is?  You will still need to do this.”

Several nanocycles of heated discussion and arguing found them finally agreeing that Feral would try to access the combat coding on Rinzler’s disc, and that she would not try to upgrade herself until she had been able to copy it on his disc without causing him to have any glitches.

Feral sat cross-legged on the dark gray floor in the middle of the room.

Rinzler crouched on one knee near her.  Reaching back over his shoulder, he released his discs from his disc dock and handed them over to Feral.  She held them gingerly in her hands for a moment as she looked across the small space between them, an unspoken question in her eyes.  Rinzler looked at her and nodded.

 _‘Do it,’_ he signed.

Taking a deep breath, she blew it out and looked down at the discs in her hands.  Rinzler had left them joined, and Feral could see the circuit colors—steadily glowing rings of pale blue and the same deep red-orange as the circuits on Rinzler’s and her gridsuits—ringing the discs.  Feral closed her eyes and let her mind sink; feeling as if she was letting herself slip into the Grid like a pool of water.

It was a strange feeling, as if she was listening to the far-off murmur of voices.  The loudest of the voices seemed to be growling softly to itself.  As she listened, she began to understand that it was coming from the twinned lights that were resting in her hands. The lights seemed to twine around each other like twisted ribbons.

This was Rinzler’s code.

“Hello,” she thought to it.  “It’s me.”

The lights in her hands seemed to grow brighter as if in recognition and welcome.

“I have a favor to ask,” she thought/whispered to the lights.  “I would like to see parts of your coding.  Will you show it to me?”

The ribbons of light seemed to shimmer and pulse when Feral asked the question.  There was a small growling sound that made her think of what a bobcat would sound like if it had swallowed a mouthful of pebbles or gravel; and another sound—deep, slightly gruff, yet somehow as smooth and mellow as from a far-off bell.  Both sounds were coming from the lights in her hands.  It sounded as though the lights were discussing her request between the two of them.

A nanocycle later, the lights brightened and the sensation of something tugging at Feral—trying to bring her closer—was felt.  The growl had softened, and the other sound—the bell, as she identified it in her mind—seemed somehow eager, as though it had only been waiting for her to ask.

The lights broke apart in a shower of glowing sparks, beginning to take on the shapes and form into pictures.  It seemed as if every area of Rinzler’s code was trying to appear for her to view at once.  She realized that some of what was forming must be memory files, as the last few moments between Rinzler and her played backwards. 

Feral shook her head—could she shake her head here?  Wherever _here_ was, she wondered—and spoke to the files.

“No, wait,” she told the lights.  “I need to see only the coding for combat and tactics.  Don’t show me anything but that…”

The light of the sparks dimmed for a moment, and Feral felt an odd feeling—a mingling of disappointment and relief—coming from the lights in front of her.  A moment later, the lights brightened again as the sparks began to take on the shape of a miniature Rinzler.  The small figure began to move, demonstrating various methods of attack and defense.  Some of them Feral recognized from her training, some from watching Rinzler in the Games, and others were completely unfamiliar to her.

Watching the small figure of her partner battling invisible foes before her, Feral asked the lights a question. 

“Can you make a copy of this coding section?” she asked, “The combat coding?”

The lights dimmed slightly then brightened.  There was a sense of agreement coming from the light, and before she could inquire further, more sparks of light floated up to form another small figure.  This one had no circuit lines on it to identify it as a specific program…as if there was no personality or consciousness in the program that it represented. 

Feral quickly understood that instead of showing her that it was possible to copy the combat coding, Rinzler’s base code had _made_ a copy of the codes.  Without the rest of Rinzler’s coding added to it, it was no more than a skill set; it could never be used as a copy of his complete coding…the _essence_ of what was Rinzler.

“Thank you for making the copy,” she said, gratefully.  “I am not going to try to add it to my code as an upgrade yet…there is something I want to try to do, first.  I will add the upgrade soon, though.  I promise.”

The lights pulsed brighter, the sounds of growls and fare-away bells somehow sounding pleased with her reply.

Feral reluctantly pulled back from the lights, away from the sense of the Grid that she felt, her mind and awareness rising like a bubble to the surface.   The next moment, she drew a shallow breath and opened her eyes to find Rinzler watching her.

 

* * *

 

Rinzler had watched as Feral let out the deep breath she had just taken, and closed her eyes.  She had taken his discs when he offered them to her, and now had her head tilted towards where they now rested in the hands she held before herself.

It had been an uncomfortable feeling, putting his discs into Feral’s hands.  In a very real way, by doing so Rinzler had just put his life into her hands.  The last person to have full access to his discs had been CLU.  His mind flinched away from the thought of the results of that occurrence. 

He trusted Feral not to try to reprogram him; however, he could only hope that being his friend would cause her to hold back—to not pry into his personal files.

Rinzler had barely processed the thought when he felt something; a light…touch…for lack of a better description, and an unheard voice greeting him.  An odd sense of standing next to something warm and comforting while at the same time having the potential to be incredibly dangerous and overwhelming, flowed over him.  It was something he had not encountered before, and yet a sense of familiarity identified it somehow as being Feral.

It was an odd experience.  Rinzler could clearly see Feral—her legs crossed before her—sitting in front of him.  And at the same time, he could feel her.  It felt as though he was carrying on an unseen conversation with no words.  The sensation of almost being in two places simultaneously was both comfortable and disconcerting.

He also had the feeling of being glad to see her, happy that she was able to interact with him on this much deeper level.  The feeling swept over him and out in a wave towards Feral.

Rinzler could sense her wanting to see his coding, of her asking if he would show it to her.  This caused the sensation of conflict of rise within him, as his oldest, most basic programming wanted to offer up everything that he was to her…a User; and yet, he didn’t want Feral to see what he had become with CLU’s programming—the changes between the program he once had been, and the program he now was.  The knowledge that she had to see his code for what they were attempting to do to work, and the fact that Feral had not pushed or tried to force his code to show, but instead was waiting for Rinzler to decide if he would show it to her, made his decision.

He could feel his coding opening up, beginning to reveal itself to her.  The various files in his coding eagerly offered themselves up to her, wanting to be seen and recognized.  Before the realization that he was opening and assembling his memory files had time to make Rinzler regret doing so, her felt something unexpected.

Users were always curious, according to Flynn.  Rinzler had wondered at times if that was accurate, or if it was only accurate when applied to Flynn.

Then Feral had entered the system, and she had proven to be just as curious as Flynn...even more so, at times.

When his files all began opening before her and Rinzler felt his memories begin to replay, he expected that Feral would take the opportunity to learn more about him.  She had often asked, but he would not answer most of her questions that were regarding him.

However, when his memories began to replay, instead of feeling her watching them, a sense of a gently restraining hand stopped him.  While there was still the feeling that she was curious, Feral was now requesting that all of his files other that those relating to combat and tactics coding remain closed and hidden.

Rinzler felt an overwhelming sense of relief mingled with some disappointment at the new request.  The relief he understood.  Rinzler did not want her to see all of his coding, to open up his past in that fashion.  And yet, on some level, he must have wanted her to know.  It confused him; and he did his best to push both feelings aside and concentrate on opening and showing Feral his combat coding.  A few moments later, the question of whether or not he could make a copy of his coding came to him.

Instead of merely answering, he quickly cut/copied the file.  It now only needed to be transferred to another program to upgrade their combat functions.

He somehow knew that she was grateful for his help, and for copying his coding.  Rinzler could also feel that she did not want to use it as an upgrade, yet.

Rinzler could feel her pulling away from him somehow, as though she was leaving.  Less than a picocycle later his code closed down access and availability. He watched as in front of him, Feral raised her head and opened her eyes.

“Run a systems check,” she told him.  “Scan for any glitches or new errors.”

Rinzler nodded slowly, scanning his code as he did so.  “There are no errors or glitches,” he said.  “Are you going to upgrade your code now?”

Her eyes seemed to search his face, scanning the blank visor of his helmet as if this time she would be able to see his eyes through it. 

“Can this work both ways?” Feral asked.  “Can I transfer portions of my code to you as well?”

Rinzler drew back just a little in surprise.  “I believe so,” he told her.  “There should be no compatibility issues.  Why would you want to do so?”

“There’s something I want to do before upgrading,” Feral said.  “I don’t want it to cause problems if it doesn’t work.  If we have exchanged code—whether it is your code to mine, or my code to yours—I don’t want to risk you being injured or damaged if something goes wrong.”

“Feral,” Rinzler said suspiciously, “what are you planning?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my fabulous betas (all of you) for their feedback and continued support.   
> In answer to questions that have been brought up (you know who you are), here is some additional information on the differences in this 'verse between 'overloading', 'interfacing' and 'hacking' with or between programs.
> 
> Overloading: pretty much what you imagined. Overloading is the overload of sensation through circuits. It can take place as a solo activity, or involve two or more programs. Most programs would, if privacy and time limits allowed, remove gridsuits for convienience sake before overloading--although this is not considered a requirement by any means and many programs will overload in public areas. Publicly overloading is only considered improper by programs if they are currently listed as still needing to complete a short-term task list. In other words, it's only wrong if you did it during your work hours.
> 
> Interfacing: similar to overloading and involving two or more progams; and often (usually) ends in overloading. Interfacing is more intimate; however, as programs will allow the transfer of emotion and sensation between programs while interfacing. Imagine being intimate physically with a partner and knowing what emotions they were feeling at the time...you start to get the idea.
> 
> Hacking: far more intimite than either of the two previous terms. Hacking does not have to involve overloading, and often does not. It does require a high level of trust between two or more programs, as to give someone access to your disc (permissions and priviliges) to hack it means that you literally cannot hide any of your thoughts, feelings, or memories from them; and they have the ability to change all three as well as YOUR RENDER. The closest analogy I can give is--if you let someone use a scanner/machine that could literally show them your thoughts, feelings and memories; remove any of them, rewrite or replace any of them with false ones; AND give you intense plastic surgery or even gender reassignment surgery....and you have to trust that they won't do anything that you have not specifically asked them to do. Most people in the first 'throes of love' would consider this, however, I think that few of us would let someone actually do so.
> 
> Keep an eye out, the next chapter will be up much sooner than the last one. And remember, you can type a comment/review in the little box at the bottom.  
> Your input (whether harsh or kind) is what helps me to improve; so whenever you finish typing, just push that little comment button...please?


	15. The Falcon Cannot Hear the Falconer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If it works, it will help keep almost six million programs safe.”  
> “And if it doesn’t, then you derezz.”
> 
> There is something that Feral wants to do before upgrading her code.   
> Because there should be some way for her to help Rinzler keep the Grid's programs safe...
> 
> Song list for this chapter: 'Disease' by Matchbox 20  
>  'Albinonio's Adagio in G Minor' by the BBC Orchestra or the Berlin   
>  Philharmonic Orchestra

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi.  
> Ummm...I think I should warn you now, gentle readers, that sometimes the voices in my head decide that stories should NOT take the left turn at Albuquerque. Sometimes they think that the story should be happy, or sad, or much longer than planned--or much shorter than anticipated.
> 
> Feel free to hate me about 1/2 to 2/3 of the way through this chapter.  
> It's been fun...

“I still think that this is the worst idea that you have ever had.”

“Oh believe me, I’ve had worse.”

“That fails to make me feel better about this,” came the dry reply.

“If it works, it will help keep almost six million programs safe.”

“And if it doesn’t, then you derezz.”

“Life is full of risks that way.”

“That’s not funny….”

The voices echoed off of the dark, sharply angled walls of the sea side cliffs as their owners grew closer to the sea itself.

“You’re certain?  It’s fixed code, right?  The stuff only a User could affect?”

The owner of the voice came into view, looking up and down the dark shoreline as she did so.

“I know fixed code when I scan it,” said the owner of the first voice; a taller figure that was assessing the area as he walked.  “No program or virus can change it.”

The first figure spoke up again.  “Where is this cave you found, anyway, Rinzler?  I don’t see it.”

The tall program let out an irritated huff and turned to answer her.  “That was the point, remember?  You said you need a place that wouldn’t be found, and could be quarantined safely.  He received nothing in reply but a stare.

“It’s this way.”  Rinzler led Feral to a small cave tucked away behind the rocky outcropping of one of the cliffs.

The cave was small, but wide; barely deep enough for Rinzler to lie down and stretch his arms above his head.  The ceiling was high enough that he didn’t need to duck his head to enter, but not by much.  The cave itself was formed form the same glassy black stone as most of the Outlands, and reflected back the light from their circuits in dulled, blurry spots as they entered it.  Inside the cave, the echo of the waves against the shore seemed louder; _like the beating of a User’s heart_ , he thought to himself.

“You’re sure that you can set up a quarantine that will hold the sea’s virus even if it’s in a different host?” Feral asked.

“I helped set up the one that contains it now,” he told her.  “It will hold.”

She walked out of the cave and stood looking out over the sea.

Rinzler joined her at her side a moment later, watching her face as she unconsciously chewed on her lower lip.

“You don’t have to do this,” he told her. 

She froze for a moment at his words, before shaking her head in denial.  “No.  I need to do this.  Without a User on the other side of the screen working on this, and no other User on the Grid, this is the only thing that has a chance to clear the virus,” she said.

“I want you to not do this.”

Feral turned her head to look at Rinzler and gave him a small smile that failed to hide how nervous she was. 

“We discussed this, remember?  Protecting the system?  Well, this lets me protect it in a way that only I can.  C’mon, security; I would have thought you would have a little more enthusiasm for the idea,” she said, trying to lighten things by teasing him a little.  “Besides, I’m going to do it.  You helping me just keeps everyone else that much safer,” she added.

She looked back towards the Sea of Simulation.  Giving herself a hard shake, Feral took a deep breath and let it out again in a huff.

“Stay well away from me when I come out.  I’ll go straight into the cave; you quarantine it as soon as I’m in there,” she told him, refusing to look at him as she spoke.  “Don’t let me out again unless you know for sure that I’ve…tamed, or killed the virus.”

“I won’t,” he said grimly.

Feral took another deep breath, let it out, and walked into the sea.  Unlike every other time she had done so, this time she was wearing her disc.  Rinzler could see her give a slight shudder as the waves washed over her disc dock.  She ducked her head and disappeared under the water.

He stood on the shore, unmoving as he waited.  Finally, Feral surfaced; gasping as she started to wade to shore. 

“Get back,” she called as she came closer to the store.  “I don’t want you to be unable to keep from derezzing me before I can get to the cave.”

Rinzler wanted to argue with her, but feeling his circuits almost crawling with the urge to fight—to destroy the threat to the system that was drawing closer to the shore with every picocycle—he merely moved further back.  Far enough away the he no longer had to battle the urge to pull his disc.

Don’t touch any of the water,” Feral said as she reached the shore.  Her voice was already slightly hoarse.  “Stay out of the puddles that drip off of me.”  She made her way up the beach and disappeared into the cave.

“Seal it,” he heard from the cave.

Rinzler carefully made his way over to the cave mouth, avoiding the puddles on the ground as he did so.  The urge to destroy the threat was much stronger now; and he was almost shaking as he restrained himself to simply quarantining off the cave.  When the quarantine field was secure he leaned back, taking a deep breath at the relief that it brought to his senses. 

Now for the hard part.

Rinzler went and sat down on a rock where he could see the cave mouth.  All he had to do was wait.  Either Feral would come out—having dealt with the virus—or he would deal with what she had become.

He hoped that it would be Feral.

* * *

 

Rinzler had been waiting outside the cave for over a microcycle.  He had waited, watching the cave for a while.  Then he had spent time listening to the waves as the washed back and forth on the beach.  Intake some energy, and then it was back to watching the cave.  He was contemplating watching the Sea for a while when he heard it.

A rough, choked breath.

It was soon followed by a wet, rasping chuckle.

“I know you’re out there, little program,” came a voice from the cave.  The voice sounded somewhat like Feral’s—if she were gargling a mouthful of derezzing voxels.  “I can _feel_ you,” said the voice.  “Do I have you to thank for my…enforced stay?”

The voice chuckled wetly again, the sound setting all of his anti-viral protocols on edge.

“Come closer…” it urged him, “…security. Let me get a good look at you.  I’ll even return the favor.”

Not wanting to see this…’not-Feral’ however, unable to resist his curiosity, Rinzler drew nearer to the mouth of the cave.

“Too shy to show your face?” it asked him as he moved closer.  “A shame.  She has wanted to see it for so long,” it said, mockingly.  “Ah well…I’m not so shy.  Take a good look.”

There was a scuffling sound in the darkness of the cave and then the viral approached the quarantine field at the cave mouth.  Her head was down—as though her gaze was focused on the ground—and flickers of a sickly yellow light appeared and disappeared randomly through her circuitry.  She raised a hand and placed it lightly against the quarantine field.  He could see her fingers tighten as a shock from contact with the field went through her.

Her head tilted slightly to the side as the voice hissed out of her again.  “Ah, this feels familiar,” it said.

“You’re hurting yourself doing that,” Rinzler said gruffly, the damaged growl thick from his agitation and unease.

“No, _you’re_ hurting her,” said the mocking voice.  “She doesn’t mind, though.  I know; I can see it.  She _likes_ that you are strong enough to hurt her.” 

The voice was amused now.  “Oh, she doesn’t like that I told you that.  So angry!”  The viral was silent for a moment as her/its head raised.

_It’s not Feral,_ Rinzler thought fiercely to himself as he watched it.  Its eyes were still closed as it gave him a smirking smile. 

“I know you now,” the viral said.  “Your quarantine is too familiar to forget, _Champion_.”  With that said, the viral opened its eyes.

While in Feral’s eyes green and brown had vied for dominance according to her mood; the viral’s eyes shone with the same sickly yellow light that flickered through her circuits.

“The vaunted Grid champion.  Protector.  Guardian.  Oh yes, I remember you,” the viral told him.  “Going by a different name now, hmm?  I could tell her your previous name….  I don’t think I will, however.  Much more amusing—just the two of us knowing who you _really_ are.  More…intimate.”

Rinzler refused to answer the viral’s taunt; continuing to stare silently and unmoving at it.  The viral tilted its head as it watched him, a grin very like Feral’s on its face.

“Such a stubborn little program she is…” it crooned.  “Did you teach her that?  She’s still trying to fight me.”

Rinzler could see slight tremors going through her body as she stood there.

The viral turned and began stalking up and down the cave mouth, shooting glances at him as it did so.  Stepping back slightly from the cave mouth, Rinzler noticed that the viral was not moving with Feral’s usual grace.

The viral suddenly stopped short and shot him a narrowed look from its sickly yellow eyes.

“What type of program is she?” it asked him.  “She’s…different…from most of my…hosts.”

Rinzler continued to stare impassively at the viral.  A few moments later, it began its pacing of the cave mouth again.

Once he had started watching the viral, he found he could not stop.  A sort of horrified, morbid fascination kept him there; able to see and hear everything that it said or did.

The virus’ motions slowly grew jerkier and more stilted as the microcycle continued.  It continued to try to bait Rinzler into interacting with it; taunting and mocking both Rinzler and the viral’s ‘host’.  Feral’s body was shuddering almost continuously now, making her body’s movements even jerkier.  He was beginning to dread having it speak to him.  Seeing its eyes glowing out of Feral’s face and expressions was more disturbing than he wanted to admit.

He hadn’t felt like this since Abraxas appeared.  Knowing that Feral had willingly exposed herself to the virus somehow made it even worse.

In the cave mouth, the viral’s pacing suddenly stopped.  Its jerky movements had gone past tremors and small shudders.  Now, its body was visibly shaking as it tried to stand.

It gave a small, harsh cry and grabbed at its head and fell against the quarantine field; its shoulder and side taking the brunt of the shock when they hit the field.  A thin whine crept out of its mouth, but it did not try to move away from the pain of contact with the field.

The viral spoke again, its voice harsher and yet clearer than it had been in microcycles.

“Rinzler,” it called to him.

It startled him, although he managed to keep from showing his surprise.  How did the viral know his name?  He worried about what that meant for Feral; if it was gaining access to her memories.

“Rinzler,” it called again.  “I can’t keep it down for much longer.”

Rinzler cautiously came neared to the cave mouth.  Was it Feral speaking?  He needed to know.

The body leaning against the quarantine field slowly lifted its head to look at him; showing him eyes free from the taint of the poisonous light of the virus.

“How?” Rinzler asked.  “Is it…. Are you….?”

Feral shook her head slightly. 

“No.  The pain is helping me distract it.  Do you remember the first piece of music you wanted to know about?”

And don’t name it,” she said immediately.  “Don’t say anything about it.”  Her voice sounded almost frantic as she spoke.

Looking at her face, Rinzler merely nodded. 

“You remember?” she asked again.

He nodded once more, signing ‘ _yes_ ’ as he did so.  He had hoped that it would help her calm down; however, she seemed no calmer after he replied.  If anything, Feral seemed even more upset.

“It’s stronger than I had hoped,” she told him.  “I can’t fight it a little at a time.  No matter what you hear or see, **_do not_** drop the quarantine unless I play that music.  Understand?”

If it goes on for too long, don’t keep it quarantined.  Seal it away; so it can never get out.”

“Get back,” she said, looking back at the ground and breathing heavily.  Her voice had grown harsher by that point.

A few picocycles later, the viral pushed itself away from the force field, hissing at the pain the movement caused.  It was still shaking as it did, although not as violently as it had been while Feral had been in control.

The horrid voice of the viral was back.  Rinzler could hear it as it muttered angrily to itself, its voice steadily rising.

“…stupid little **glitching NULL BIT!”** the viral raged, panting.  “Was that the best you could do?  You cannot keep fighting me much longer!”  The viral began laughing; a strange, high, deranged sound that scraped across Rinzler’s audio inputs.  Still giggling dementedly, the viral stood up and moved deeper into the cave.  Into the darkness, where only the dimly flickering glow of its circuitry could be seen.

More time passed.

* * *

 

There were occasionally scuffling noises heard from the back of the cave; however, the viral thankfully refused to reveal itself.  Millicycles had passed since Feral had first entered the cave; enough time that Rinzler had long since passed worry, and was trying to decide how long he should wait before he would seal the cave.

Frustrated with his current inability to do something that could help fight the virus, Rinzler began examining the mouth of the cave for the best way to seal it off.  He was crouched on the ground when he raised his head to find the viral staring back at him, its face level with his. 

It gave him a considering smile; like it had been told to pick out a present and was deciding which one would be more fun to play with.

“Tell me…” it said to him, still smiling, “…what is a firewall like you doing with this little glitch?”

What is she to you?” it asked, watching him.   “Not a lover.  Is she a friend?  Oh I know; she’s your last chance for redemption, isn’t she?”  The viral’s smile turned into a wide grin as it watched Rinzler’s hand tighten where it rested on the ground.

“Do you think that if you can save this one glitching little program it will make up for all of the programs that I’ve taken from this system?”  The viral laughed.

“One by one, I will take them _ALL_ from you, security,” it hissed at him, those yellow eyes glaring out from Feral’s face.  “No matter how long it takes me, I will infect all of them… _protector_.”

Rinzler went back to examining the cave mouth, ignoring the viral that was still watching him.

“Do you really think that keeping me trapped here will keep this system’s programs safe?” it asked him in a voice like sweet poison.  “I fill the Sea….  I waited hundreds of cycles for this little program; I can wait hundreds— _thousands_ —more for the next one.”

The viral leaned back on its heels and gave him a small, satisfied smile; the yellow light flickering brighter and more frequently over Feral’s circuits.

“I don’t mind the wait,” it said in a conversational tone.  “In time, someone else will touch the Sea…and you will not be able to quarantine them in time.”  The viral continued speaking, “I will spread through this system, destroying it; and when I do, I will make certain that the last sound you hear will be this system’s programs…screaming.”

Rinzler’s growl was back in full force; the distortion caused by his damaged voxels grinding against each other loud in the silence left after the viral’s last statement.  He slowly rose to stand, looking at the viral smirking in front of him.  Between his anti-viral protocols and the coding over-writes that had been added by CLU, he wanted nothing more than to drop the quarantine and destroy the viral.  To eliminate the smug expression that it held on his friend’s face.  Rinzler’s fingers twitched slightly, wanting to reach for his discs.  Only the knowledge that he would have to drop the quarantine to terminate the viral’s functions kept him from doing so.  If he dropped the field, the virus might be able to escape.  No matter how slim the chance, he would not give the viral that opportunity.

His growl continued to rumble softly in the air as he looked down at the smirking viral.  Slowly and deliberately Rinzler turned his back on the viral and walked away.  He stopped only when he had reached the very edge of being able to hear anything from the cave.  He crossed his arms over his chest and stared out over the sea.

Even tainted as it was with the virus, it was still a nice view.

* * *

 

More time passed.  It was well into the fourth millicycle since Feral had entered the cave. 

The viral had raved at Rinzler, taunted, paced, and finally fallen silent.  Eventually it had simply sat down and stared at him.  A while ago it appeared to have gone into a sleep cycle and was now sprawled across the cave floor, its circuitry fading until it could barely be seen.

A harsh groan dragged Rinzler’s attention back to the body on the floor of the cave.  It pushed itself up onto its hands, lifting its head to blink eyes that no longer shone with yellow light up at him.

“Rinzler…” Feral’s voice came from the body staring at him.  “It’s over.  I’m not infected anymore.”  She coughed harshly, trying to take a deep breath.

I think I need some energy,” she said.  “I still feel really weak.”

Rinzler started to move closer to the cave and suddenly stopped to look at her.  She had just said that she felt weak.  Feral hated the thought of being weak.  One of the fastest ways that he knew of to cause her to lose her temper was to say or even suggest that she was weak.  Rinzler stared at the figure in the cave, waiting.

“I’m supposed to do something before you take down the quarantine, aren’t I?” she asked him. 

He gave her a short—almost curt—nod of the head.

She lowered her head for a moment, panting. 

“I’m really tired, Rinzler,” she pleaded.  “Remind me again what it is I’m supposed to do?”

“Song,” came the growled reply from the security program.

“Song.  Right.  I am supposed to play you a song so you know it’s not the viral.  Just me,” she said, her voice tired.  “One song, coming up.”  She closed her eyes, looking as though resting.

A few picocycles later, a voice could be heard, filling the cave.  A male voice, singing, “…I can’t live without you.  Tell me what am I supposed to do about it…”

Rinzler cocked his head, confused as the voice continued to sing.  “…keep your distance from it…Don’t pay no attention to me…I got a disease…I think that I’m sick…”

He stepped back away from the cave mouth and the quarantine that sealed it as the last words were sung.

The song cut off abruptly as the viral opened its eyes again.  The sickly yellow light was back in them. 

“The little gridbug,” it said softly.  “She tricked me.  Smart program.”

The viral tried to push itself up, but seemed to lose its strength half-way to sitting; causing it to fall back onto the ground under it.

“It won’t matter soon,” the viral panted.  “Without more energy, she’ll derezz.  Let her have energy, and I’ll use that chance to infect you.” 

The viral laughed weakly.  “You lose, security,” it said.  “And I will simply be waiting for a new host.”

* * *

 

In the corner of the cave, just close enough for Rinzler to see it in the gloom, was the viral.  It had crawled there shortly after the viral had last spoken.  He had watched for a while as it had pulled until it was almost sitting up against the cave wall before slumping there, exhausted.  Rinzler had tried to not watch, but noticed that every time he looked at the viral the light from its circuits had grown dimmer.  Now, the circuits flickered weakly, almost vanishing entirely at times as the colors changed from poisonous yellow, to red-orange, to white and back; the order of the colors varying wildly.

The circuits were so pale and faint now that it was almost impossible to tell them apart.  Rinzler hoped that his perception that the yellow was appearing less frequently was correct. 

The lights continued to stutter; entire circuits blinking out completely at times.

The program gave a faint, gasping breath; and then its circuitry went dark.

Rinzler was at the quarantine field immediately; getting as close as he could to the body that leaned brokenly against the wall of the cave.  He watched, waiting for the light to blink back through its circuits.

When its circuits remained dark, his worry and frustration took over. 

“Feral?” he called to her softly, his growl still loud in his voice.

There was no reply; no sound or movement from the body in the cave.

“Feral!” Rinzler snarled, pounding a fist angrily against the force field; ignoring the pain that the contact produced.

“Don’t you dare!  You owe me a fragging song!”

The program’s circuit remained dark.

_How dare she!  I told her he did not want her doing this.  That this was a bad idea.  When she comes out of that cave I am going to…I will…_

“No!” Rinzler bellowed.  “NO!”  Pounding on the force field, on the ground, his hands clenched in angry fists.  Until finally….

“…no…” quietly, voice unheard for the growl that covered everything.

He turned and looked out over the virus-infected sea; the sea that had claimed another from the system he had been brought here to protect.

As the waves continued to roll in relentlessly, he thought to himself bitterly that it was still a nice view.

* * *

 

Rinzler could not say how long he stood looking out over the sea.  The information was there—all programs could sense time passing on the Grid; however, he refused to access it.

He turned from the Sea of Simulation and made his way the short distance to the cave.  He would seal it away.  Only a User would be able to remove the quarantine that he would place on it.  As the head security program for the system he could put quarantines up that even the system’s administrator would not be able to remove.  Feral would remain undisturbed.

Rinzler went to the cave opening and gave a last look inside.  Feral’s body was crumpled against the wall, her body turned slightly away from him.  He wished that he had been able to see her face one last time.

Just as he was about to turn away a small, faint flash of light caught his attention.

_What was that?_

_That small circuit on the back of her neck…  Had it just…?_

The circuit was small, not even as long as his thumb; and it now had a faint orange glow.

Another circuit started to flicker faintly, then another.  A few nanocycles later, all of her circuitry had a warm—if faint—orange glow.

Rinzler let out a breath that he had not realized that he had been holding.  Feral wasn’t derezzed—dead—since she was a User.

From the form slumped against the wall came a short, sharp, gasping intake of air; followed by a small pained cry.

He watched as the program clutched at her chest, as though it hurt to breathe.  The program shifted painfully where it was sitting, lifting its head until he could see its face.

What looked like Feral blinked weary eyes in his direction.

“Rinzler?”

He took a step closer to the cave, stopping in front of the quarantine field. 

“Should I be able to see you if you sealed this cave so that the virus can never get out?”

Arms crossed over his chest, Rinzler shook his head ‘no’ in answer to her question. 

“You and I will need to talk about that later,” she said.  “However, first things first…”

The cave was suddenly filled with sound; as strains of music were counterpointed by the faint sound of the waves from the Sea reaching the shore.  The music was slow—somehow sad and stately—yet full of hope; like the Sea of Simulation washing in and out behind him.

Albinonia’s Adagio in G Minor.

The first piece of User music he had ever asked her about.  This _was_ Feral, and not the virus.

With an immense sense of relief, Rinzler dropped the quarantine and went to her; already holding what had to be a much needed source of energy for her.

Feral managed to get her hand wrapped around the bottle; however, she did not have the strength to hold it for herself.  Only his quick reflexes kept it from falling to the ground.  He could hear Feral next to him muttering a combination of User-style and Grid curses directed towards virals, viruses, and what she declared to be her ‘stupid weakness.’  Rinzler held the bottle to her mouth.

“Drink,” he growled.

“I’m only letting you do this because I can’t stop you,” she huffed indignantly.  “If you would just give me some time I can—“

“Crash,” he interrupted.  “Drink _now_.”

Feral gave him a glare and started drinking.  Before long her circuits were noticeably brighter, and she could hold the container of energy without assistance.  He gave her another three bottles of energy to drink before he was satisfied.

She started to get up when she had finished drinking the last of the energy; only to find herself being pushed back down by a large hand on her chest.

“Rest,” Rinzler said, his growl still rumbling through the cave.

“I’ll be fine,” Feral said.  Her eyes narrowed as she spoke.  “You haven’t had a sleep cycle since we came out here, either; and you’re not resting.  She moved his hand and for a second time tried to get up.

Once again, she found herself stopped; this time by a rough push down from Rinzler’s hand.

**_“Rest_** ,” he told her, “…or I’ll put the quarantine back up until you do.”

“I’ll stay here and rest,” she told him, poking at his chest with her finger.  “…if you do also.  Put the quarantine up, if you’re worried about anything, but _YOU_ need rest, too.”

The security monitor growled at her, and then made himself comfortable against the cave wall.  He watched as she stretched out on the floor of the cave, pillowing her head on her arms.  She turned her back to him and got ready to sleep.

“This isn’t over,” he heard her say, grumpily.  “We will be discussing this, later.”

* * *

 

The beginning of the next millicycle found them both standing on the black, empty shore line, just out of reach of the waves and spray.    The cliffs rose behind them, a protective wall hiding them from the city. They were both rested and recharged fully, and Feral had decided that now was the best time to finish what she had come out here to accomplish.

“You would think that it would be easier this time,” she said in a wry voice as she looked out over the waves.

She started to take a step towards the Sea, only to be pulled up short by the hand that gripped her arm almost painfully tight.

“Don’t,” Rinzler said, shaking his head ‘no’ as he spoke.

Feral looked down at the hand on her arm and then up at Rinzler.

“Are you serious?” she asked him, disbelief in her voice.  “You think that I went through _THAT…”_ she said, waving her other hand back towards the cave, “…to _not_ finish this?”

“Don’t,” he growled again.

“Let go of my arm,” she told him, heat in her voice and a hard glint of growing anger in her eyes.

Rinzler shook her arm again.  “You were not the only one who had to deal with what happened,” he rasped at her.  “Your functions terminated, Feral.  Do you not understand that? I don’t know how you restored….”

Don’t risk yourself again.  Just…don’t.”

“Rinzler,” she said, softly.  “Let go of my arm.”

His grip on her arm loosened, and then he dropped his hand.

Feral reached out and laid her hand lightly on his arm.

“I don’t know everything that happened in the cave, yet,” she told him.  “Maybe I will never know.  I may not have died…it might have been that I was in a coma…  I do know that it could not have been easy on you to be there.  I’m glad you were there, though; and I’m glad that you are here now.”

Because this is going to be finished, one way or the other.”

It’s a virus; I’m a User.  We’ve already talked about this.  If it couldn’t take me over before, then the worst thing that will happen is that I fail to cure the Sea.”

I’m going out there, and you are not going to stop me.” 

She dropped her hand from Rinzler’s arm and—still looking at him—walked out into the Sea.

It only took a few moments before the waves were lapping at her disc dock.  She stopped and looked at him, her face and body tight with anticipation of what came next.  When she realized that he was still watching her, she gave him a small, grim smile and a salute; and dove beneath the surface of the sea.

Several more long moments went by before Feral rose out of the water; much closer to the shore than she had been, and began walking towards the beach.  She was squeezing water out of her hair as she came nearer to him.

“How am I doing?” she called to him.  “Do I show up as clean on your anti-viral protocols?”

“No,” Rinzler replied, gruffly.  “However, the viral readings _are_ fading.  You should be virus free soon. It seems to have worked.”

Feral stopped just outside of his reach, waves continuing to wash around her feet.

“So, do you want to derezz me?” she asked. 

“Yes,” he replied.  Several long picocycles went by before he added, “…not because of the virus, though.”

She gave a small grin at that and stepped from the water, saying, “I’ll risk it.”

* * *

 

They decided that it would take a few more cycles for the Sea of Simulation to be free of the virus.

They recalled Spike from where they had left him happily playing with wild bits, and headed back towards the city.

It wasn’t long before their lightrunner had pulled up outside of the building that housed CLU’s headquarters.

“Like we said, right?” Feral said, looking over at Rinzler.

He merely looked over at her and opened his door.

When she got out of the lightrunner, Rinzler grabbed her upper arm in an unescapable grip.  She relaxed slightly at the touch.  This would go as they planned; it just wasn’t going to be fun.  CLU was going to be furious with their unexpected absence.

Mere nanocycles after they entered the building sentries had stopped them.

“We have orders to take you to CLU whenever you appeared,” the sentries said, leading them down towards CLU’s audience chamber.  Their footsteps echoed slightly in the nearly empty corridors.

The door to CLU’s audience chamber slid open when they arrived, revealing a tall silhouette outlined in golden-yellow circuits standing in front of the window at the far end of the chamber.

“What is it?” questioned a mellow voice, calmly.

“We’ve brought Rinzler and the other program, sir,” one of the sentries answered.

There was the sound of someone taking a deep breath.

“Leave us,” CLU ordered.

The sentries gave a slight bow, turned, and left.

CLU remained standing, his back to them.  After a while he spoke.

“Where did you take her, Rinzler, to be gone so long?” CLU asked, his voice mild.

“Wasn’t his fault,” Feral interrupted.  “If he hadn’t come after me, I wouldn’t be here now.”

CLU continued to look out the window, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Really?” he said.  “Perhaps you should explain that more…”

She shot a look at Rinzler, who was still holding onto her arm.

“I ran,” she said.  “He came after me.”

CLU turned to look at her.

“You…ran,” he said, walking closer to her.  He motioned Rinzler back with a small, quick jerk of his head.  “I have trouble believing that he could not catch up with you before very long.”

“He did,” Feral told him, her chin up defiantly; her eyes watching CLU as he slowly began circling her as she stood there.

“Did he?” CLU murmured quietly.  “And yet you were gone for quite some time.”

“He couldn’t bring me back from where I went,” she said.

“And where were you?” CLU asked; a small smile on his face.

“The Sea of Simulation.  It doesn’t affect Users the way it does programs.”

“Oh, the Sea,” CLU said.  He came to a halt in front of her.  “Aren’t you the clever one?”

“I thought that he would give up and leave," Feral said, grudgingly.  "Any of the other security programs would have left eventually.”

“Yet here you are,” replied CLU.

“He stayed until I had to come out of the sea,” she told CLU, crossing her arms over her chest.  “I’m not a fish…I couldn’t stay in it forever.”

CLU reached out with one hand and ran his fingertips over the scar on Feral’s face.  “Take her to my quarters and tether her,” CLU ordered Rinzler, his blue eyes never leaving Feral’s.  “We are going to go over why you will not try to run away, again,” he told her.

Feral jerked her face away from CLU’s fingers. 

She was beginning to hate having anyone touch her face.

She had known what would happen when they returned.  That didn’t mean that she would like it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can all hate me just a little more for having done that.
> 
> If you are enjoying/interested in the story...please feel free to leave a comment or review in the little box down below. Views/Hits don't let me know what you thought about the work. You could click to view and get bored in the first paragraph and give up, it still shows as a hit on the work.   
> Feedback of all types welcomed. It helps me and the work to improve. Thanks!


	16. Things Fall Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's amazing what an exchange of code can do...let you do new things you could not have done before, show you new information.  
> It can give you a new perspective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can only apologize for this update taking so long. Life interferreth. My thanks to everyone who waited so patiently. I can't say when the next update will be (sadly) as my computer died while trying to finish this update.
> 
> Song list for chapter: songs are matched by symbols to chapter sections
> 
> *--Shelter by Birdy
> 
> ~--Fragile Tension by Depeche Mode  
> +--Better, Harder, Faster, Stronger by Daft Punk  
> #--Drive It Like You Stole It by Glitch Mob  
> &\--For Your Entertainment by Adam Lambert  
> Sail by Awolnation
> 
> Extra thanks to this chapter's beta's; Luna Tsin and Hack_Generation.

          

* * *

* * *

     

*--

“Okay, I get it…  Do what you want me to do,” Feral said, from where she stayed, panting, on her hands and knees.  She lifted a face that now had a swollen lip and a smear of red leaking from the corner of her mouth.  “I remember now.”

In front of her, CLU looked down on the User that was now straightening up to stare at him. Behind him, CLU could hear a muffled ‘no’ from the protesting bit that Rinzler was currently holding. The bit had made an attempt to fly at CLU shortly after the trio had arrived at CLU’s quarters, only to be snatched and restrained by Rinzler. While the bit was only a small annoyance at times like this; CLU sometimes wondered if he should continue to allow Feral the indulgence of keeping the bit.

“And what is it that I want you to do?” he asked Feral.

“Well….”  She stopped, the tip of her tongue sliding out to lick away the blood from the corner of her mouth before continuing, “From what we’re doing here…I have to say you must want me to keep running as often as I can.  Maybe I’ll get lucky and make it the next time.”

Another backhand to the face knocked her back to sprawl on the floor again.

“Some microcycles I wonder why I even bother,” CLU said wearily.  “You aren’t going to get away, Feral.  I would have expected you to have learned that by now.  Even if you did manage to get away, Rinzler would track you down and bring you back.  There is nowhere for you to run to.”

I am getting very tired of this,” CLU told her.  “I thought you would be more useful to the system by now.”  CLU turned to Rinzler.

“Is she ready for the Games?” he asked the security program.

Rinzler shook his head.  No, Feral was not ready, not yet.  Not if she was to have a chance of surviving the final round.

CLU looked back to where Feral was pulling herself up, getting ready to climb to her feet again at the end of her tether.  “She has to the end of this cycle to be ready,” he told his enforcer.  “One way or another—ready or not—she will be taking place in the Games.”

The sysadmin turned and began walking towards the door, calling back to Rinzler over his shoulder as he did so.

“Her tether is timed to release her in a nanocycle or two.  I suggest that she spends the time training.  Report to me at the beginning of the next millicycle for an updated patrol schedule.”

\--

When the door closed behind the administrator program Rinzler offered Feral his hand, releasing Spike as he did so to help her to pull herself to stand on her feet next to him.  The bit quickly flew close enough to nuzzle Feral under her chin; then began to fly in small circles around her, flashing ‘yes’ as he appeared to examine her. “It’s okay, Spike,” Feral told the bit, quietly. She looked up at Rinzler and said, “Thanks for looking out for him. If Spike ever actually attacks CLU…we both have a good idea of what would happen.”

Rinzler passed over a vial of energy for Feral to drink.  It was a routine they had developed after several repetitions of this same scenario.

‘ _You antagonized him on purpose,’_ the security program signed.  It wasn’t a question.

Feral slid a glance over to her friend as she tilted the vial to her mouth.

A moment later she saw Rinzler’s hand move again.

 _‘Why?’_ he asked. ‘ _You knew what he would do…why did you push him like that?’_

Feral tucked the now empty vial under her arm and began signing her reply to Rinzler.

 _‘The more CLU thinks he knows, the less he is likely to look for,’_ she answered, her hands moving rapidly.  ‘ _Besides, you know how I feel about him.  Anything that keeps him from getting what he wants from me is something I’m likely to do—or at least try to do.’_

Feral moved to set the vial down on CLU’s desk as the tether timed out and derezzed, releasing her.  She set down the vial and turned back to look at the program still watching her.  While he hadn’t moved, she knew Rinzler well enough to know that something was bothering him.

‘ _Why do you keep fighting him?’_ Rinzler signed the question to Feral.  ‘ _Why don’t you stop defying him?  It would be easier on you...’_

Feral shook her head and signed back, ‘ _Would you fight him, if you could?’_

 _‘This isn’t right,’_ he signed to her, and she could feel the frown behind the words. ‘ _You shouldn’t be the one having to fight.  There should be someone here who can fight_ FOR _you.’_

 _‘You’re teaching me to fight for myself,’_ she signed.  _‘That will just have to be enough.’_

The low rumble of Rinzler’s growl increased, the sound filling the corners of the small room.  ‘ _It’s still not right…’_

Feral’s eyes softened at that, the look on her face both sad and understanding as she wrapped her arms around his waist, then pulled herself closer until she was pressed against his length, her face tucked against his chest. Spike circled them as they stood there, looking like a lost firefly.

“Oh, Rinzler,” she sighed, the words ghosting across circuits and sensors.  “What in this system _IS_ right?”

He couldn’t think of an answer to her question.  Could no longer tell if there was anything remaining in the system that was ‘right’.  Deep within his code, however, Rinzler quietly made some additions to the copy of his combat coding that was waiting to be transferred to Feral as an upgrade.

He may not be able to tell her what was ‘right’, may not be able to fight for Feral himself…but he would give her every advantage that he could.

 

* * *

 

~--

“What is this meant to do, again?” The question was a low, almost gruff rumble of sound.

Feral chewed her lower lip nervously as she squinted at the code that swirled above the disc she held in her left hand.  She reached out her right hand and poked a finger at a glowing segment of it, sending it twirling to the side before it expanded in her view, revealing the more complex codes found in the heart of the function she was studying.

“It’s called an immune system,” she said, almost absently.  “Think of it as a User-version of anti-viral programming.  It basically hunts down and—if possible—isolates and destroys foreign matter, bacteria, and viruses.”

“I already hunt down, isolate and destroy viruses if it’s possible,” the tall program told her.

“Yes, you hunt down and deal with viruses before they infect programs,” she said, turning and high-lighting another portion of code and creating a copy of it.  “But if you are infected with a virus, what happens?”

“I will become a viral and attempt to infect more programs, to spread the virus through more of the system.  I will continue to spread the virus until I derezz. Why?”

Feral looked up from the motes of light that made up her code to see Rinzler’s helmet facing her.  Even without being able to see his eyes she knew he was staring intently at her.

“See, I can’t even _think_ of that without feeling freaked out,” she told him, suppressing a shudder. “If this works out, however, you won’t have to worry so much about it.”

“You still haven’t really explained what it is you are trying to do…” Rinzler pointed out from where he crouched near her, the blank face of his helmet aimed at the figure that was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the quarters that they shared.  “What exactly is it that I will not have to worry about?”

“Remember how I reacted to being infected by the virus in the Sea?” she asked him.

Rinzler froze, his body held tautly in place with a sense of tension.

‘ _I remember,’_ he signed to her.

Feral fought the urge to wince at a feeling of her own stupidity.

 _Of course he remembered_ , she thought.  It had been saved onto his disc in Technicolor glory, just waiting to be recalled.  While she had battled the virus internally, Rinzler had been forced to watch—unable to do anything to help her—while the virus had ravaged its way through her coding, attempting at one point to trick Rinzler into setting it free.  He was a security program, tasked with keeping the inhabitants of the Grid system safe, and had been helpless to stop it from transforming her into a viral.  Had she escaped, she would have spread the virus to the nearest program—Rinzler—and continued to spread it until she either derezzed or fought off the infection.

“Well, obviously I became infected—we both know that—but I didn’t derezz.  And I’m not a viral out spreading the virus through the system…right?”

“What’s your point, Feral?” Rinzler’s voice was impatient, but held a trace of curiosity in it.

“A User’s immune system attacks viruses the way your anti-viral protocols do…except instead of using a disc and attacking the carrier to destroy virals, it attacks the virus from _within your code_.  Just because you become infected doesn’t mean you will stay a viral.  You can destroy it within your own code…and _you cannot be infected by it again._   I can go into the Sea with my disc on as many times as I like now and not be infected by the virus.  I have developed ‘anti-bodies’ to the virus.”

If I can transfer a copy of the coding for my immune system onto your disc, you will have the same anti-bodies…and the ability to create more or even different anti-bodies and fight off infections on your own from within.  You will be able to go into the Sea without becoming infected. More importantly, you will be able to develop anti-bodies to battle viruses that you come in contact with in the future so you can risk limited contact and have a chance of not derezzing.”

Feral highlighted a different area of code, her head tilting to the side as she examined it. “Spike still in sleep_mode?” she asked.

Rinzler turned to look at the bit they had settled on the bed that he and Feral shared. The bit lay motionless, going through a recharge after reassuring itself that both Feral and Rinzler were both functional after the incident in CLU’s quarters.

“He’s recharging,” Rinzler told her. “I would not expect him to be active for the next 0.34 millicycle.”

“We should be done by then…” Feral said, concentrating on the highlighted code before moving past it. She slid another glowing fragment of coding to merge with the copy she was building.  A hard, narrow-eyed look was aimed at the copy as Feral searched it to make certain that everything was in order. She held out a hand towards Rinzler.

“Okay, that should do it.  If you want the upgrade, then I need to copy this onto your disc.  It should be easy enough to add on as an overlay—over-write…whatever they’re called—and then you can sync it up.”

Rinzler reached over his shoulder and freed his disc from its dock.  There was a pause, as if he was hesitating, and then Rinzler handed over the disc.

Feral took it with the attitude of someone who had just been given a holy relic.  She held Rinzler’s disc in one hand and sat her own disc to balance on her folded knee before her.  A tap of a finger highlighted the copied code, and a swiping motion caused it to follow her finger until the code hovered over Rinzler’s disc.

“You’re sure you want to do this?” she asked him, one last time.

‘ _Do it,’_ Rinzler signed to her.

A nod of understanding, a tap of her finger against his disc, and Rinzler watched as the glowing motes that made up the copy of that portion of Feral’s code streamed down into his disc and began to install.  Feral’s eyes tracked the code until the last glowing spark had merged with the disc, and then gave it back to Rinzler.

He held the disc in his hands, considering the ramifications of what lay on it.  No other program on the grid held _User_ code…not even CLU.  The system administrator was a digital copy of Kevin Flynn, holding all of Flynn’s thoughts and memories until the moment that Flynn coded CLU; however, he didn’t have any of Flynn’s code.  There was no way to know if the User coding would even be accepted by his programming and not merely labeled as junk code to be deleted the next time he defragged.  Rinzler might have sat there even longer if his thoughts were not interrupted—

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he said.  “I was just thinking… This,” Rinzler indicated the disc he held, “is amazing.  It must be incredible to never have to worry about losing someone to a virus.  All Users have to do is quarantine the infected until someone resolves the viral coding.  Then they can upload these ‘anti-bodies’ to the infected and cure them.”

Feral looked surprised at what he said.

“It’s not quite that simple,” she told him.  “People still get sick and die from viruses all the time…sometimes from ones that you would think would be easy to fight off.  And sometimes, something goes wrong and the anti-bodies attack the person’s body instead of the virus…” She stared at him for a moment, a worried look growing on her face.

“You know what,” she said, suddenly, “I’m starting to think this is just a bad idea.  Pass me your disc and I’ll delete the new code…it’s probably safest.” Feral held out her hand, waiting for Rinzler to give her his disc.

The blank face of Rinzler’s helmet turned up towards her face.

“No.”

“Rinzler, you have no idea how badly this could go.  I may have screwed this up…instead of giving you an immune system to protect you, it could attack you.  Just give me the disc and let me put things back the way they were.”

Rinzler’s helmet continued to face Feral until—with a decisive movement—Rinzler swiftly reached back with his disc and re-docked it.

“Rinzler!” Feral shrieked, falling over almost on top of the security program as she tried and failed to stop him from docking his disc, her crossed legs tangling and pulling her down when she lunged to catch his hand.

There was a quick flicker of circuits as Rinzler’s disc synced with his system, the new code installing itself throughout his programming.  A moment later, a shock ran painfully through him, reminding Rinzler of the sensation caused by an energy discharge…the kind that was used to cause programs to fall into standby or have a system crash.  There was an odd, stuttering sound and distantly he understood that he was its origin.  As if from far away, he could hear his name being called.

\--

“Rinzler!” Feral shrieked, lunging for her friend’s hand.  Her legs refused to unfold quickly enough; causing her to lose her balance and crash into Rinzler, knocking him onto his back on the floor.  She landed on the floor next to him, one of her arms thrown across his chest. 

Feral sat up quickly, trying to push and pull Rinzler onto his side so that she could reach his disc dock. 

“Why did you _DO_ that!?” she asked him, panicked by the feeling of his limp and unresisting form.  “Rinzler! Oh god, can you even hear me?” His circuits flickered brighter for a fraction of a nanocycle, signaling a sync with update installs in progress. 

The steady, grinding sound of his that sometimes seemed to be trapped half-way between a growl and a purr was glitching; coming out in stuttering bursts of sound.

This wasn’t Rinzler. Rinzler wasn’t an uncertain stutter of noise; wasn’t limp and yielding.  He always seemed to be sure of what he was doing, even when it was following orders that he hated or disagreed with. He walked with his head up and shoulders back; a sense of trapped power that could be released at any time. Watching Rinzler reminded her of watching a large predator in the circus; something that may have been conquered but wasn’t truly defeated.

Feral managed to pull Rinzler’s shoulder up enough that she could just reach his disc.  Her hand went to the release and froze.

What if interrupting the sync made things worse? She had never heard of a sync being interrupted before; what if it damaged or wiped some of his programming? She wasn’t a programmer…she didn’t know anything about programming. Some days she wasn’t sure how she managed to pass her required college class on computers.

And how would Rinzler react to having his disc touched without his permission? He was already touchy about having to allow CLU access to it; wasn’t that why she had been so surprised when he offered to give her access to his coding?

Hot, frustrated tears started to burn at the edges of her eyes as she realized that she wouldn’t touch his disc; that there was nothing she could do. 

There was a gasping sound from the helmet in front of her and a feeling of tension came to the shoulder she was still holding.

“What are you doing?” asked a rasping voice.

Feral let out a noise that was half choked laugh, half sob.

“You jerk,” she said, shoving his shoulder back.  “Do you have any idea how much you scared me just now?”

I said you shouldn’t do that; that it could go wrong…” Feral stopped to take a deep breath.

“That sounds very familiar,” came from the figure on the floor. “Didn’t I say something like that recently?”

She slapped at his shoulder again. “Jerk. I thought I might have killed you. Why did you do that?”

Feral aimed another half-hearted blow at Rinzler’s chest, only to have him catch her hand before it landed.

‘ _Enough,’_ he signed to her. ‘ _Stop hitting me._ ’  He sat up and shook himself slightly. 

‘ _All of my scans are showing stable coding.  I don’t know if there is a way to definitively test the ‘immune system’ coding without exposure to a virus; however, it is not causing any glitches,’_ he informed her, only slowing to spell out ‘immune system’.

Rinzler reached behind himself and undocked his disc.  He offered it to her, his head canting to the side as he said, “Your turn…”

“Right,” Feral said, blinking at the disc held out to her.  “My turn.”  

Feral reached back and undocked her own disc. She looked back and forth between the disc in her hand and the combined discs that Rinzler was holding out to her.  Making up her mind as to what she wanted to do; she took a firm hold on his disc while simultaneously thrusting her disc at him. 

“Here…” she told him, “…hold this for me….” She then turned her attention back to this disc in her hand and opened the disc’s coding access.  Rinzler’s code unfurled before her like a plant opening to light.  One area in particular caught her eye with its intense glow and densely packed coding.

“Is this…?” She questioned, pointing at the small polygon of coding in front of her. 

“The coding I copied for you?” Rinzler asked. “Yes…upgrade your disc whenever you’re ready.”

“Right.”

Feral rolled her shoulders to try to release some of the nervous tension she felt.  Reaching out to Rinzler’s disc, she gently tapped the code and moved her finger away. There was a relieved breath as the copy of the coding separated and pulled away from Rinzler’s disc, following her finger until she tapped it onto her disc’s access; leaving the two of them to watch as the bits of coding flowed down to the disc to prepare for installation.  All it would take now was for Feral to sync with her disc and the upgraded codes would install and apply themselves; becoming part of who she was.

Feral handed Rinzler’s disc back to him. 

“Ready?” she asked as he docked his discs, preparing to dock her own.  A quick nod of agreement from her friend and she reached back with her disc, saying as she did so, “Here goes nothing…”

There was a soft, almost inaudible ‘click’ as Feral’s disc connected with her dock.  A muffled hiss came from her as her eyes flashed the same red-orange as her circuits when the sync began. 

A moment later…

“I don’t think it worked…” Feral said, starting to stand up. “I don’t feel any diff—“

Her breath caught in a gasp as she stumbled. “Ow,” she said, a hand lifting from her side, “that—“

Whatever it was she had wanted to say went unknown as she pitched forward with a choked cry, trying and failing to stop her fall.

“Feral!”

Now Rinzler was the one who didn’t know what to do as on the floor in front of him Feral began to gasp for air.  Her eyes were staring past Rinzler’s shoulder—unfocused—as her entire body began to shake uncontrollably; fine tremors causing her hands to beat against the glossy black floor of their quarters even as her heels scuffed fruitlessly in an effort to push away and escape an unseen attacker.

Rinzler gathered her up, pulling her into his lap in an attempt to keep her from injuring herself by beating her head against the floor.  He could feel the tension in her; could see the cords of her neck and throat standing out in high relief.  Even holding her, something that usually to help Feral to calm down and reorient herself in relation to her surroundings, Rinzler could feel the body in his arms shuddering almost continuously.

“No, you don’t,” he snarled at her; his voice half angry, half panicked. It was too familiar; too much like what he had recently seen when she infected herself with the virus.  “Not again…” The thought that his code—or worse, the additions he had made to the coding she had used for an upgrade—had done this was terrifying. “You _will_ return to active status…”  

It was several long nanocycles before the gasping breaths grew further apart until Feral’s breathing smoothed and returned to normal, the tremors lessening in strength until she was finally relaxed in his arms.

“Rinzler?” The word was muffled from being spoken into the chestplate of Rinzler’s armor.

“Yes?” he asked, relief flooding him at the sound of her voice.

“Why is my face smooshed up into your armpit?”

Rinzler lifted his face, the blank visor of his helmet hiding the look of stark relief that he wore on his face as he soundlessly mouthed, _thank you, thank you, thank you…_ behind it.  Who he was thanking was unclear, even to him; but it seemed appropriate to the moment.

“Seriously, why?” came from the figure that he was still hugging tightly to himself.

He let out a shaky half laugh and said, “It’s revenge for scaring me again.”

“Yeah, well, you don’t smell like the guys from junior high gym class…so it’s not working,” she told him, trying to push herself up and out of his lap.  “C’mon, let me up.”

Reluctantly, Rinzler loosened his hold on Feral; releasing her to stand nearby. He rose to stand as well; watching silently as she rubbed the sides and back of her neck in an effort to relax muscles that had recently been drawn tight.

Feral glanced over at the tall figure watching her silently, stretching as she did so.

“What?”

Rinzler was silent for a moment longer before speaking.

“Do you know how hard it is on a security program—how hard it is on _me_ —when you risk yourself like that…?”

“It wasn’t that bad this time,” she protested. “I never crashed or ceased functioning…it was just some sort of glitch. It only lasted 0.01872 millicycles—“ Feral froze, mid-stretch, when she realized what she had just said.

“Rinzler,” Feral said, slowly, “Why do I know exactly how long I was glitching…and why did I just list a time interval in that manner?” She turned to face him, looking straight at where she thought his eyes were behind the black visor of his helmet.

“What. Did. You. Do?”

 _‘I did what I thought was best,’_ he signed. _‘I made some additions to the copied coding that was used as your upgrade.’_

“That doesn’t explain this time…thingy!” she snapped out, waving a hand emphatically as she did.  “Or why I _KNOW_ exactly where in the Grid we are located, how long I can function without intaking more energy, or how I know that there are two search engines, eleven security programs, and five minor administration programs on this level of the complex _right now._ ” Feral began pacing in agitation as she spoke.

‘ _You have alw—‘_

“Don’t sign!” she said, her voice sharp as she continued pacing back and forth in the room; passing in front of the large window that spanned on wall from the floor to the ceiling. “I’m too mad to focus enough for you to sign. Just tell me what you did.”

“You have always had a connection to the Grid system,” Rinzler told her, levelly.  “Now, it is simply easier to access in an organized fashion, similar to a security program of my access privilege level.  The ‘time thingy’—what is a ‘thingy’, exactly? I’m not familiar with the term…”

“Rinzler!” came an exasperated shriek.

“You are currently accessing the system clock,” he said.  “Also, program location and tag reads; this will allow you to assess threat levels and status of other programs. With each portion of new code that you access, more code will be made available to be accessed. Each level expands from code that must be processed at least once for the next portion of code to have a platform to build off.”

Feral stopped pacing and stared at him for a long moment before saying, “You’re telling me that I have as much access to the Grid system as you do…if I try to have access?”

A grave nod of the helmeted head answered her.

“All I have to do is try to access it in regards to smaller, lower-priority functions to be allowed access to higher functions; and every time I do this it increases what I can do?”

Again, the same slow, grave nod.

“Can we go to the practice arena now? I want to whomp on you for a bit for not telling me you were going to add on to the code; and it sounds like I might actually be able to do that, now.” There was a grin on Feral’s face as she made that pronouncement.

* * *

 

+--

“Ouch!” The word was a muffled protest. 

“This was not how I anticipated things going,” Feral complained, her face pressed against the training arena wall.  A moment later, Rinzler released his hold, allowing her to move freely again. She pushed herself away from the wall, saying, “I feel like something’s wrong with me. I’m not where I’m supposed to be… It’s like I’m going too far—over-extending myself—no matter what I do.”

“I told you that you would be able to access more of the coding as you used it; that doesn’t mean that your User render is ready to handle all of your newly coded abilities…from the way you are moving, it’s still trying to process the newly installed physical upgrades,” he told her as he stepped back. “You aren’t used to being this strong or fast, or having the reflexes necessary to compensate.

“Physical—Rinzler, are you telling me that you put upgrades on my _physical body?”_ Feral’s voice grew a bit shrill at the end of the question.

Rinzler tilted his head in her direction.  “Of course,” he told her.  “How else would you be able to utilize the combat coding most efficiently?  I only increased the levels as much as I thought was safe…you’re fine.” His voice was dismissive as he told her of raising the levels.

“Warn a person, next time!” she shrieked at him.  “You don’t get to change me without telling—no, asking—me about it first.  That’s just wrong…” Feral glared at him and huffed in irritation. She crossed her arms and snapped, “If you thought for one minute that is going to make me go slower until I finish _processing the upgrades_ , then you were wrong.  I’m gonna learn how to use these; and then I’m going to tear you a new input….”

Rinzler drew back for a moment, startled by the heat in her words.  Half a picocycle later, he noticed that despite her words, Feral’s lips held just the smallest upturn at the corners of her mouth and there was a gleam in her eyes.

Behind the black visor of his helmet, his lips quirked up as well.  “I look forward to seeing you _try…”_ he told her.

 

* * *

 

#--

Two mylacycles later….

“Where are we going?”

“Do you remember when I told you that when you had improved enough in hand-to-hand combat I would show you what that large open area in the games arena was for?” Rinzler asked, leading Feral closer to the entrance of the arena’s gaming areas while Spike followed them.

“Yes.” Feral stopped short and grabbed Rinzler’s arm.  “You mean…now?  You’re going to show me now?” A smile began to spread across her face as she said, “I’m good enough now that you will show me?”

“You have improved enough that I believe you won’t derezz yourself _IF_ you follow my instructions and go slowly while you are learning,” he replied, beginning to walk again. 

Feral stopped short and stared at him.

A step ahead of her, Rinzler stopped again and looked back. “That means…yes, I will show you now _,_ ”he said, beckoning for her to follow him.  “If you don’t keep up, we will never get past the armory this millicycle.” He turned and walked on, leaving her to catch up and walk with him.

“Armory?” she called, “Rinzler! Why are we going to the armory?” She sprinted to catch up when there was no answer forthcoming.

\--

Once inside the armory, Rinzler led her to a wall-mounted rack that held several batons. The batons looked exactly like the ones that Rinzler always wore clipped to his thighs whenever he was not in sleep mode.

She watched as Rinzler examined a few of the batons, finally choosing two of them.  He tossed one of the batons to Feral, nodding approvingly when she snatched it out of the air before it could either hit her in the face or fall to the floor of the brightly-lit armory.

‘ _Good,’_ he signed.  ‘ _Clip that one to your leg; it will serve as your spare. Always have two batons…you never know when you will need the second one. Having it at hand at all times could save you, one day.’_

The faint glow from the armory’s cabinets and racks highlighted the small frown on Feral’s face as she turned the baton around in her hands, searching for something on it that would give her more information on its purpose.

“Alright,” she muttered, “Carry two. Gotcha.  But Rinzler, what exactly are these?”

“Lightcycles.”

Feral’s head came up quickly and her eyes grew wider as she repeated, “ _Lightcycles?_ These things turn into lightcycles?!”

“Please, please show me how you turn this baton into a lightcycle…please!” she begged, her voice excited.  “I’ve been wondering if I would ever get to ride one.”

Rinzler’s helmet tilted a fraction as he regarded the User who was close to jumping up and down in excitement; bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet where she stood.  _‘When we get to the lightcycle grid,_ ’ he signed.  ‘ _I will show you there_.’

 

A nanocycle later, Feral was looking at the open expanse of the lightcycle grid; its curving ramps and levels a beckoning tease and lure that called to her.

Next to her, Rinzler was holding out his baton and showing her how to rezz up a lightcycle from it.  “Take your time; it’s your first time to ride a lightcycle, so go slowly and follow my lead,” he told her. “Don’t try to take any of the ramps—especially not the circular ones—or change levels until I decide you are ready.”

Feral was watching carefully as he rezzed up his lightcycle, mimicking his movements to rezz up her own lightcycle.  She nodded in agreement, serious as he showed her the controls for the lightcycle.

“….acceleration is controlled in this way, this will activate for sudden stops, this is the stabilizer control—you shouldn’t need to change its setting at this time—and this controls your lightribbon, _do not turn on the lightribbon_ …” Rinzler was saying, pointing out various controls.

She carefully kept her face blank until he stepped back and told her, “Rezz up your helmet and try to get accustomed to controlling it…just remember to take your time and go slowly. Don’t try anything tricky.  I’ll be close to you in case you get nervous or have a question. Ready?”

Behind the visor of her helmet—blank and black, like Rinzler’s, but with rounded curves instead of his sharp planes—Feral grinned.  Oh, she was more than ready. Feral had wanted to ride a lightcycle since the first time she had seen one. They reminded her of the motorcycle that she had left behind when she entered the Grid system and even now her fingers itched to wrap around the controls and see just what she could make a lightcycle do.

 

When Feral had been eleven years old, her best friend, Joey, had been the boy next door—a boy who generously ignored the fact that she was a girl—and he had showed her how to ride his dirt bike.  A week later, she was the proud owner of a cast signed by all of Joey’s friends—courtesy of her insistence that she could race on the BMX track as well as he could.

She had broken her arm trying to prove that fact (she couldn’t, but wasn’t about to admit it); however, she had gained the admiration of both Joey and his friends by not only trying to do so…but coming back out to the track the next week with her arm in a cast and asking him to teach her.  Joey had taught her everything he knew and within six months she had a dirt bike of her own and was training for the local BMX races.  A year later, she was winning a few of them.

The thrill of going fast and playing hard while riding something that only had two wheels had never faded for her.  In high school, she had saved up and taken her first motorcycle racing course.  Over the next few years she took every race course that she could find—all of the race classes that Ducati offered, BMX racing classes, anything and everything.  When she couldn’t take a race class, she was renting time on tracks in the area—even if she had to rent a motorcycle to do so.

 

Feral slowly started off on the lightcycle, keeping her speed fairly low as she tested out the turning radius and how quickly she could brake. The entire time Rinzler was pacing her on his lightcycle, encouraging her over his comm link. 

“Do you want to try it alone?” he was asking. “You’re doing fine.  Just keep going slow until you feel—“

Rinzler’s voice broke off as Feral suddenly shot ahead; her speed reaching the levels more commonly found in the civilian lightcycle races. 

He growled and followed, planning to catch up to her and maneuver Feral into slowing down to a safer speed.  Instead, he found himself having to chase her around the arena as Feral managed to steer her lightcyle to avoid him; changing levels as she did so.

\--

Feral couldn’t hold in a whoop of excitement as she accelerated, pulling away from where Rinzler was trying to carefully monitor her.  The feel of the lightcycle responding to her command was almost intoxicating; all she wanted was _more_.  The urge to see exactly what she could do on a lightcycle was irresistible. 

The lightcycle was as responsive—perhaps even more responsive than—any motorcycle that she had ever ridden before.  The feeling of the dorsal code that attached to the back of her helmet from the lightcycle was a bothersome touch at the nape of her neck; distracting her.  She dismissed the code with a half-conscious thought and tried out a few sharp turns; laughing out loud in enjoyment as she did so.

Rinzler had caught up to her and she could see him next to her.  Feral could hear his irritated growl leaking through their comm link as he tried to control her movements by steering his lightcycle to intercept her.  She grinned mischievously from behind her helmet’s visor before suddenly changing her direction and taking a ramp to change levels. 

It had been far too long since she had played ‘tag’ with someone on a ‘cycle of any type; now seemed like a great time to indulge in some fun.

For the next 0.1683 millicycles Feral dodged and avoided Rinzler; changing speeds to either pass him or fall back out of his influence.  She switched directions at the blink of an eye; it didn’t take her long to get an understanding of the different levels and ramps, either.  All of them were used as she led a Rinzler whose growl continued to grow around the arena.

\--

To say that Rinzler had not expected this from Feral was an understatement. 

He had been irritated when she first pulled away from him—not terribly surprised, but irritated.  The surprise had been when she had managed to initially avoid him.  Not many programs could avoid him and not for very long.  Feral, however, seemed to be very good at it; or very lucky.

Rinzler’s mood went from irritated at Feral’s apparent ignoring of his directions, to annoyed when she avoided him, then worried that she would be injured, then angry at her disregard for what he had said and her own safety, to frustrated at his inability to force her to a stop without risking injuring her. Feral was avoiding him at times by making turns that were so sharp Rinzler could see her knee coming within centimeters of the arena floor. When he noticed that she didn’t have the stabilizing dorsal code active on her lightcycle, Rinzler felt like he would throw an exception. Without the stabilizing factor of the code, a program could easily lose their balance and fall from their lightcycle. At the speeds that the lightcycles were currently reaching, a fall could lead to deresolution. After spending a portion of the millicycle being unable to stop her on a lightcycle without risking derezzing Feral or her lightcycle, Rinzler’s mood chad changed to one of grudging admiration.

Finally, Rinzler saw Feral’s lightcycle slow; then stop. The User dismounted from the lightcycle and after taking only a few steps, laid down on the arena floor.  Uncertain as to whether or not she was injured, Rinzler turned his lightcycle and headed to join up to her.

\--

Feral sat down and flopped onto her back, retracting her helmet as she did so.  She was still laughing wildly as she spread her arms out to the side as though trying to embrace the entire system at one time. 

One thought kept running through her mind— _That had been amazing!_ The sense of speed, the same thrill that came from knowing that only your own skills were keeping you alive and uninjured, the way the lightcycle had responded to the smallest changes in her balance and the shifting of her weight, the challenge of unfamiliar territory while competing in some fashion with another skilled opponent…there was no other feeling quite like it. It was as though Rinzler had given her an unexpected gift.

A moment later, Rinzler was standing near her—booted feet near her side as he looked down where she lay, still laughing.

“That was incredible!” she shouted. “Thank you so much, Rinzler; I haven’t had that much fun in…” Feral stopped for a moment before continuing, “…well, in long enough.”

Rinzler looked around for a moment before lowering himself to sit beside the still chuckling User.  “I wasn’t happy with what you did,” he told her, his growl low and gruff as he spoke.  “You seem to have more skills than I expected,” Rinzler said, a bit grudgingly.

Feral turned her head to look at him. “Yeah, it’s amazing what you can learn out there,” she replied, lazily.  “I always liked—okay, more along the lines of loved—learning ways to push what I could do on a motorcycle. They’re a lot like lightcycles; not as responsive at times, but comparable.”

She suddenly rolled and lunged at Rinzler, causing him to fight down the urge to react by pulling his disc and negating the threat she posed.  Feral wrapped her arms around Rinzler’s chest, squeezing tightly before releasing him and saying—her head still tucked into the curve of his neck just below his helmet—“Thank you so much.  I can’t tell you what that meant to me…”

Rinzler held himself stiff for a moment, then relaxed and cautiously brought his arms up to return the hug.  They had hugged before—often, actually—but it had always been to comfort each other.  This…this was different and he wasn’t quite certain how to process it or the unexpected, unnamable emotions that it created.

“You’re welcome,” he told her, instead.  “Don’t worry; we will be spending a lot of time out here.”

A picocycle later, there was an aggrieved ‘NO!’ and a mild shock as a very angry Spike finally caught up with them. 

The bit had not been happy when the two of them had taken off on their lightcycles; leaving him behind to try to keep up.

“OW! Spike! I’m sorry, I won’t do it again… Ow!”

* * *

 

>\--

Rinzler made his way through the grey and black maze of corridors and hallways, the light of wall and floor circuits reflecting off of his helmet as he headed back in the direction of the quarters that he shared with Feral.

It had only been a short time since CLU had released him of the duty of accompanying him.  Rinzler knew that the Leader had not really needed him for personal security for the meeting with the other programs—highly influential though they may have been in their respective cities—but more for the intimidation CLU commanded as the one who could give a command and have the system’s best warrior dispatched to seek them out and derezz them.  The sight of Rinzler standing behind the system administrator as Rinzler’s low and irritated growl rolled through the room was not something easily ignored in one’s memory files.

And so CLU would sit—a small, bland smile on his face—as objections and arguments to the processes and methods that CLU wanted used would dwindle and fade a little more with each flick of their eyes to the sullen red-orange glow of circuits on the lean-muscled form of the Enforcer.

Now, all Rinzler wanted was out—away from the programs whose eyes grew wider and more nervous or frightened the longer he was near them; no matter that he was still the Grid’s security and had a _need_ deep within his coding to see them all as safe as he could make them—he wanted to be away from every program that would not simply relax if he was around.  Unfortunately, there were only two remaining on the Grid who reacted in such a fashion…and he didn’t want to go back to CLU’s side.

Feral was the only one he wanted to have near him at this moment.  The way she simply accepted Rinzler for who he was, and did not judge him for the ways that the reprogramming had changed him, was somehow soothing and exactly what he was searching for right now.

At last he was stepping through the door of their quarters, his helmet coming up and turning slightly as behind the black visor his gaze swept across the room; searching for circuits whose color matched his own.

The room was empty.

A frustrated growl made its way around the room, filling and rebounding from the walls and corners. 

She wasn’t here. 

Feral was limited in where she had access if Rinzler or CLU was not with her.  She was getting better every millicycle at learning ways to hack into the system, and slowly learning the subtleties of manipulating it. Feral said it was more like asking the code and hoping that it agreed; although Rinzler was certain that if Feral really wanted to do so she could force a hack on the system…or a program.  It slowed her down; however, if Rinzler was not with her.  There was no way for Feral to shut down the alarms and system administration notifications if something went wrong.  If Rinzler was with her, he had the ability to shut down the alarms or list it as a systems security check instead, forestalling any investigations into the alarms that might lead to the discovery by other programs of Feral’s growing hacking skills.

A quick ‘locate program’ query let him know that she was in one of the small training arenas on the same floor as their quarters.  He left the room and headed to the training arena.  Feral was most likely practicing her new combat skills, trying to reach the point where her User body had performed the movements enough times to react quickly enough for her to function as a Games champion. Once again, Rinzler began to make his way down the halls and corridors that led to his new destination—the training arena rooms.

 

The door slid open with a near silent ‘hiss’.  Rinzler slipped in the doorway before it had even opened completely, only to come to a sudden and complete stop at the sight that met his eyes.

Feral was dancing again.

He didn’t see her do it often, but it was no secret to him that she danced—often waiting until he was about to leave to perform some task that he had been ordered to do alone.  The first few times that Rinzler had seen her dancing Feral had invited him to join her; only to nod her acceptance of Rinzler’s refusal when he told her that he didn’t dance.  It hadn’t stopped her from doing so herself.  She would still dance—sometimes using the training arenas and activating the gravity controls or adding some other factor to force herself to react differently to reduced sensory input or a changing environment.

Rinzler had to admit that doing so was speeding up the process of Feral familiarizing herself with her upgraded coding.  It had been startling the first time he saw her using one of his combat maneuvers while dancing and even more unexpected the first time she had used a dance maneuver while sparring with him.  While he didn’t think that Feral had noticed it, it had forced him to change tactics suddenly to keep her from gaining the upper hand in the match.

Now it seemed that she was reducing her sensory input again; making herself work harder and use her other senses more to keep her balance and track her position within the room.  Feral had coded up what looked like a strip of fabric and tied it around her eyes as a blindfold.  Even without the use of her sight she moved across the arena’s floor confidently, displaying none of the reluctance to move or lack of balance that most programs would have shown at reduced input parameters.

Watching Feral dance was something that Rinzler didn’t often do.  It caused him to feel odd sensations in his coding—as though he was being offered something unusual that he didn’t deserve, something unearned. 

While it wasn’t as though there was no dancing in the Grid—many programs danced; some very well and others very badly—but it was very different to watch Feral.  When a program danced there was a planned precision to their moves, a factor determined by programming.  Feral moved differently; her movements were more fluid and changing constantly in response to the environment, the music and her mood.  It was almost hypnotic in some fashion.  He often found himself watching her from the corner of his eye, glad that he could appear unconcerned behind the black visor that shielded him from prying eyes. 

He stood there silently, watching as the small figure in the center of the room moved with the music. Spike was flying around her in wide, looping circles; seeming to move almost in counter-point with Feral as she danced. In the air around her Rinzler could hear a male voice singing.

**Can you handle what I’m about to do**

**‘Cause it’s about to get rough for you**

**I’m here for your entertainment…**

_Not mine,_ Rinzler thought to himself, _never for my entertainment.  I don’t deserve something like that—the regard of a User on such a level—not with what I’ve done.  The program I once was might have stood a chance at earning that privilege…but not me.  Not CLU’s enforcer…._

He continued to watch as the song ended and the music changed to a slower tempo.

\--

Feral could tell when the door to the small training arena opened.  Since the upgrade to her code she found that she was more aware of small changes to the code in the environment around her; her ‘sense’ of the Grid more acute now.  So while she was aware that the door was beginning to open she was also determined to continue dancing. 

She didn’t know who was standing on the other side of the door, but the thought of a strange program watching her was irritating. 

 _Let them watch,_ she thought to herself, _there’s no point to a program telling CLU that I look like I’m glitching because I’m dancing…I can take off the blindfold if they don’t leave. Besides, the song is almost over and I don’t want to stop before the song does…._

When the program entered the room, however—and the upgrade was the only way that she knew they had done so; the program’s feet were completely silent on the floor—there was none of the usual tingle of uneasiness or a need to watch for danger that she usually felt near other programs.  Some programs had a threat level that was easy to identify, their tag reads were almost broadcast to everyone around them.  Typically such programs were the ones Feral had marked as less threatening—search programs, document processers, most of the art programs, programs with limited-to-no combat skills or tactics. 

This program did not list a tag read as they moved through the doorway.  The only tag read that she could register wasn’t even a tag read—it was Spike, moving around her as she danced. Programs that didn’t list tag reads would normally claim more of Feral’s attention as she decided how much—if any—of a danger they were to her.  Instead of the urge to determine the program’s threat level; however, she felt…safe. 

Feral made a snap decision; the upgrade she had received from Rinzler was something she trusted as much as Feral trusted Rinzler himself.  She had scanned the program when they entered the room; they registered within her as safe…she would trust that judgment. 

She could only think of one person in the system that made her feel safe, after all.

\--

From where he stood—against the wall and only a few steps away from the doorway—Rinzler could see as Feral’s movements changed to match the music that was now playing; a soft thunderclap of sound that seemed to belong to the Grid somehow.  Her hands curved and twisted through the air, seeming to pull the music both _out of_ and _into_ her at once.

 **Sail!** a voice sang; the word seeming to hang in the air surrounding Feral.

**Sail!**

**This is how I show my love**

**I made it in my mind because…**

Rinzler looked on silently as Feral continued to dance; her body flowing from one movement to another, seeming to beckon and invite him as she danced.

In the middle of the room it was now impossible to tell if the User was moving to match the music…or if the music was matching the User as she danced.  Feral was mesmerizing to see and Rinzler found that his attention was focused on the graceful form flowing sinuously with the song. 

Something about watching her like this caused something to stir deep in his coding; the feeling of memories partitioned too far away for him to access them.  He had felt something similar before, hadn’t he?  Not the same—but for someone important to him…someone that was very different from Feral, yet that he had cared for very much.

 **...sail with me into the dark…** the song entreated.

He couldn’t. 

Feral deserved more than a program with corrupted coding. 

He would never tell her how he felt. 

Never tell her that he was falling in love with her.

Rinzler turned before the song ended and silently left the room, the door closing quickly behind him.

\--

As the last of the song continued playing, Feral sensed the door opening and the program that had been in the room with her leaving.  She stopped dancing and pulled off the blindfold, dragging it over her head until she stood blinking in the bright light of the otherwise empty room. Spike moved towards the closing door, only to change directions and return to hover by Feral’s shoulder when it closed.

“Rinzler?” she said, feeling as though the security program should have been standing nearby.

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I am dealing with a zombie laptop; I am still writing. Hopefully the next chapter will not take as long--even with the complication of having to replace my computer.
> 
> Comments of any and all types are welcome--encouraged, actually.


	17. The Centre Cannot Hold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even more training for the Games...  
> And some unexpected revelations, some from unexpected sources.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Thank you all for sticking around while I was unable to work on fics. So, a little shorter than expected but now with more Spike!, I give you ...the next chapter.
> 
> Song list for this chapter: #= Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol.

 

* * *

Feral slowed her lightcycle, coming to a full stop shortly behind Rinzler.  Nearby, the sound of waves washing against rock formations and the beach could be heard.  She gave a quick glance over the surrounding area, scanning for threats the way Rinzler had taught her.  Not that it was as easy to sneak up on her now that she could spot tag reads and run proximity scans for other programs.  Still, it was good practice; as Rinzler had pointed out on more than one occasion, not all of the threats she might face in the system were programs.

 

 

 

Gridbugs, for example, didn’t have tag reads and rarely showed up on proximity scans.  Feral felt the skin at the back of her neck twitch at the thought of a mass of gridbugs—sea-birthed or the more common, smaller ones—making their way to her unnoticed.

When she spotted no signs of danger nearby ( _and she wouldn’t put it past Rinzler to not mention that there was a gridbug behind her again—that had not been fun; and seeing him sign to her that she needed to scan and clear the area herself before trusting that it was safe_ sucked— _to see if she was paying attention_ ) she pressed the control for the small protective bubble that she had added to the code of her lightcycle. 

Spike rose from the now opened bubble with a clearly heard ‘yes’ before making his way over to Rinzler’s lightcycle.  The bit circled the security monitor as though to verify that both of his adopted programs were uninjured before returning to bob in the air above Feral’s left shoulder; his glow shedding more light into the dim atmosphere.

‘ _He still doesn’t like traveling that way, does he?’_  Rinzler signed, shaking his head at the bit’s antics.

Feral flashed a quick, rueful smile to her friend before answering, ‘ _No, but I don’t know of another way to bring him with me safely on the lightcycle.’_  She gave a small shrug of her shoulders before adding, ‘ _Spike will just have to get used to it.’_ At her shoulder, she could see Spike changing shape as he disagreed, the bit’s voice grumpy as he flashed a quick ‘no’.

She triggered the lightcycle; activating the function to rezz it back to its baton form and clipping it to her right thigh.  “Why are we here, anyway?  Not that I don’t enjoy coming to visit your favorite spot—I mean, it’s great out here—but,” Feral looked up again as she continued, “You didn’t mention us taking time off this millicycle.”

There was a rough stutter of sound from Rinzler as he rezzed his own lightcycle back to a baton.  Feral had learned to recognize it as a sort of chuckle that Rinlzer had; the harshness of his usual damaged electronic growl smoothing out just a bit. 

“We’re not taking time off,” he told her.  “This…” Rinzler made a motion with his hand, encompassing the area around them as he did, “…is where we are training this millicycle.”

“Training at what?” Feral asked skeptically. “There's nothing here....”

“You,” Rinzler replied, “will be learning to use your environment to facilitate acrobatic and aerial maneuvers for evasion and offense.”

She stared back at him with a stony expression on her face, one that Rinzler recognized.

Feral wasn't happy about what she had just heard for some reason. He wasn't certain exactly why; however, knowing Feral it would only be a short time before she told him.

In fact, Feral's hand was tightening on the baton she had just clipped to her thigh as she said, “You want me to practice flipping around in the air like a ninja.”

It took a picocycle for his now-greatly-expanded memory and User reference files to offer up a match to the term; a figure in dark clothing using similar combat moves to his own.

“That is a reasonably accurate description for this training session,” Rinzler agreed, his voice even as he stood there with his arms crossed over his chest.. “You don't use that portion of your coding efficiently. I believe that you are ignoring an important resource by not utilizing it.”

Now, Feral crossed her arms and stared back at Rinzler; glaring uselessly at his blank helmet. “I don't need to use them,” she told him.

“It has been demonstrated in enough matches that it can make the difference between winning and losing. With CLU determined to put you in the Games at the end of the cycle, you can't afford to not use those maneuvers,”he pointed out. “I don't understand why you don't want to practice them.”

Feral scowled at Rinzler. “I don't know how to do them. I studied dance as a kid, not gymnastics or parkour.”

Between them, Spike darted back and forth, making erratic orbits around the two figures standing on the shore while the waves quietly rolled in and out on the sand nearby.

Rinzler held up a hand, coaxing the agitated bit to him before speaking.

“You did well enough in our first match...”

“I nearly died in our first match!” Feral shouted suddenly, her hands in angry fists at her sides as she faced him.

“I don't know how to do those fancy tricks of yours, Rinzler. Backflip, cartwheel, somersault, forward flip,” she held up a hand, counting off each move on a different finger as she listed them. “That's all I can do! I can't do what you do; I'll find ways to beat my opponents without them....”

“You're upsetting Spike.” Rinzler's voice held more than a touch of irritated growl as he continued. “Of all the things I would have expected from you, Feral, whining--”

“Whining! I'm not whining--” Feral interrupted indignantly.

“You are,” he said bluntly before continuing, “--like an alpha test program that doesn't want to complete their first tasklist was not one of them.” Rinzler gently shooed the bit off to a safer distance, saying, “You have the ability, I _know_ you have the coding, and you will have both of your feet in the air—at the same time—before we finish here.”

“I'm not a whiner and there's no way you can make--” her voice cut off in a yelp as she jumped and twisted mid-air to dodge the disc that was now flying her way. She landed, stumbling after it passed by, barely missing her as it did so, to curve back to the hand that snatched it from the air. Feral looked over, startled, to where Rinzler's hand was still holding the disc up.

“The next time I throw both of them,” came the cold voice, underlaid with the low rumble of Rinzler's irritated growl. “I assure you, if you don't utilize those maneuvers, you will see just how much it hurts to get hit with an inactive disc. I'm not going to hold back, Feral. Use the coding that I gave you, or learn the reason why you want to use it.”

“There's no reason why I need—” Feral began saying—in what she insisted later was a reasonable tone of voice, and what Rinzler said was more whining—only to cut short what she had intended to say and replace it with a snarled, “Frag it, Rinzler! Knock it off!” as _both_ of Rinzler's discs sliced through the air where her head and torso had been picocycles before. She straightened up from the stumbling backbend she had done to avoid Rinzler's discs and sent another angry glare his way.

“No more warnings!” came the short, snapped out reply from the security monitor. “React or be hit. Anticipate and act first or keep training until you do! I have nothing else on my tasklist, Feral. I can stay here even longer than you can. Use that coding!”

A picocycle later, twin discs whirled into the air, curving and rebounding off of the nearby rock formations to change trajectories to aim at a different area of Feral's anatomy.

 

* * *

 

 

It was almost the end of the microcycle.

Rinzler had kept his word; Feral had both of her feet in the air at the same time on numerous occasions during the training session. She had needed to use every bit of coding related to defensive and evasive moves to avoid being hit by Rinzler's discs; or, more than once, being injured by her surroundings as she dodged. No matter how many times he sent his discs flying in her direction, however, Rinzler could not get Feral to move past a grudging usage of her coding. Feral would use the maneuver that was the most efficient, or the easiest.

Despite repeatedly telling her that “...use of more visually dramatic moves and attacks will often disorient or dishearten an opponent; making it more likely that they will either make a mistake or simply give up...” Rinzler had not been able to convince Feral to take the offensive using the more acrobatic moves, either. Finally, his temper at an end, Rinzler found what it would take to get Feral to use her coding to it fullest advantage...and use it offensively, as well.

“What was that?” Rinzler demanded, catching his disc as casually as though it had been resting on a shelf instead of spinning back towards his head.

“It was a dodge—just like you wanted,” came the sullen reply.

“A dodge!” The tall security program's frame was taut with suppressed tension as he threw the words at her, scathingly.

“That was the most pathetic, weak excuse for a—“

What ever Rinzler intended to call it, his voice was cut off by an angry shriek and a disc that suddenly burned his way.

But Feral had used the coding that he had been insisting that she utilize.

Further down the beach from where Rinzler stood, a figure was rising from were it crouched; helmeted head flung up, no doubt glaring angrily in his direction, as the returning disc was caught and flung again so smoothly it looked as though it hadn't actually been caught—only redirected once more in Rinzler's direction.

As soon as the disc left Feral's hand for the second time, she exploded into motion; beginning a series of forward flips that built up speed as she approached him, then twisting at the last picocycle to aim a roundhouse kick at his head.

Caught off-guard by the move, Rinzler was almost distracted enough to miss the disc curving at him when he began to move to avoid the kick.

Almost.

Instead of moving to avoid the kick and thus placing himself in line with Feral's disc, Rinzler stepped into it; simultaneously blocking the kick and grabbing Feral's ankle and twisting to try to throw her to the ground. The disc sailed by harmlessly, missing him by scant centimeters.

Feral moved with the twist to her ankle, turning it from a fall into an opportunity to bring up her other foot in a less powerful kick to Rinzler's chest. He dropped her ankle to step back, only to have her follow him. She moved towards him, upper body leaning as though to try to grab his left arm, only to change direction in a sinuous movement that brought her up to catch his right arm and, slipping behind Rinzler, pull it up towards his back in a action meant to keep him both from using his right arm and cause him to drop his disc. Feral's left arm hooked around Rinzler's left shoulder, the edge of her deactivated disc at his neck, just under the curve of his helmet's jawline.

Feral pulled up harder on his right arm, coming close to the point that would dislocated Rinzler's arm —which required her to stretch to do so—as she spat out in a voice hot with unbridled fury, “I am not weak.”

Rinzler brought up his left arm, hooking it between Feral's forearm and his neck, he forced the hand holding the disc away from his neck before falling back onto her; using the weight of his body to drive her to the ground.

Feral hit the ground hard, grunting as Rinzler's weight drove the air from her lungs. She tried to bring her disc up again, only to have Rinzler twist over her. In a flash, he had her effectively pinned, knocking her disc to the side.

“I never said you were weak,” came the irritated growl of his voice. “I said that your dodge was weak...and it was. Every tactic you used earlier was weak; that weakness in the arena will destroy you.”

He moved back, rising until he stood next to her on the strand of beach, black-gloved hand extended in an offer of assistance.

Feral's helmet retracted, revealing hazel eyes that still held traces of anger.

_“_ I'm not weak,” she repeated, in a grudging tone.

“No,” Rinzler agreed, “You're not weak.”

He grabbed the hand that Feral then held out to him, pulling her up to stand next to him.

“You do have weaknesses,” he told her, “However, that does not make you weak.”

#

Feral appeared to ignore what Rinzler had just said; walking past him to make her way out to one of the smaller rocky outcroppings that thrust themselves into the Sea of Simulation like the fingers of a hand. She sat down grouchily and stared out at the water, silently. After a few moments, Rinzler joined her where she sat, settling himself down as comfortably and nonchalantly as a cat.

Feral turned, ready to glare at him, only to find that Rinzler had leaned forward until he was within a centimeter of her nose. The sheer ridiculousness of it—Rinzler had no need of getting that close to be able to see her, after all—made her grumpier.

“What are you doing?” she demanded. “You're being weird.”

“I'm looking to see if I accidentally injured you during that last maneuver,” he told her.

“What!?”

“I just told you that you have weaknesses and you didn't argue with me. You must have been injured...”

“Yes!” Spike flashed brightly, zipping in closer until he was floating near Rinzler's shoulder.

“See? Even Spike agrees with me,” Rinzler said.

The corners of her mouth twitched up as she tried not to smile. “All I see is that you are both being weird,” she said.

Rinzler shook his head and sighed. Turning, he addressed the bit at his shoulder.

“She's definitely been injured, Spike,” he told the bit. “Otherwise, she would remember how useless it is to argue with a bit.”

“Yes!” agreed Spike, happily twirling and then zipping around the two of them in a quick circle.

Feral ducked her head, attempting to hide the smile that had spread over her face. Grinning, she turned towards the program sitting next to her.

“Just who wrote your code, Rinzler?” Feral asked, laughing. “If he's even a quarter of the man you are, I would have liked to have met him.” She shook her head before adding, “I only know one person off-Grid that can pull me out of a bad mood like that. Would have been nice to have met a second...”

Giving a frustrated sigh, Feral said, “Alright. You said I have weaknesses; what are they, so I can try to learn to deal with them.”

' _Why does it bother you so much to be thought of as weak?_ ' Rinzler signed the question, curious as to the answer.  ' _Every time you think or feel that I--or anyone else--is even suggesting that you are weak, you lose your temper_.'

Her face grim, Feral signed back, ' _One of the strongest people I have ever known was often called weak.  I was told I was weak because I resembled them in many ways.'_ She looked up and said, "I have spent most of my life proving the ones that called us 'weak' wrong."

“You need to learn to control your temper better. You let it control you,” Rinzler told her. “I had to push and push to get you to use your coding to its highest level of effectiveness; however, when you finally did so it was because you lost your temper. You stopped using tactics that were both offensive and defensive; you were willing to be injured severely to win. I have seen you react in this way before...you don't realize who or what you are fighting at that point. You just fight...and you fight to destroy everything that stands before you.”

There was a gasp as Feral gave Rinzler a mock-scandalized look.

“Are you suggesting that someone of good Scandinavian and Irish heritage NOT fight like a beserker?”

“I have no idea what that refers to, Feral,” Rinzler told her.

“Hmm. Yeah, you probably don't.” She hummed for a moment, a tuneless sound that was rapidly changing to match the music that began to play softly around them.

“Okay...some Users learn about their heritage so they can learn how it affected their families over time. In my family heritage, there were warriors called 'berserkers'. They were both highly respected and greatly feared in combat because when they fought, the only thing that mattered was if they defeated their opponent. They ignored bad ground, terrible odds, even the injuries that they sustained. Some of the berserkers would get so lost in combat that they would have trouble telling the difference between their friends and their enemies. Often, they would be the difference between whether their side won and their comrades survived or not.”

Feral gave a small shrug of her shoulders before continuing, “My family always said that I had a 'take no prisoners' temper. I just never had to fight like this before.”

Rinzler shook his head, lights from their circuit lines reflecting off the edges of his helmet as he did so. “You need to learn to control your temper when you are in the arena. Otherwise, an opponent is going to learn what kind of mood you are in and use that knowledge against you.”

She made a faint scoffing sound.

“How are they possibly going to find out what my mood is? All I have to do is not talk to them—“

“Your music,” Rinzler told her bluntly. “Your music gives anyone who is paying attention an idea of what your emotions are at the time.”

The music in the air cut off abruptly.

“You can tell what I'm thinking about—“ she squeaked out.

“No, but I can often tell how you feel about what you are thinking about. If I am paying attention, sometimes I can guess what you are thinking about from that information.”

“Oh. I'll—uh, I'll be more careful,” Feral said, feeling the faint heat from a blush beginning to spread over her as she thought about all the things that could mean.

Feral stopped speaking and began humming quietly to herself as she looked out over the Sea. Rinzler continued to watch her, silently, for a while.

After several nanocycles, he reached over and lightly touched Feral on the shoulder, signing to her when she turned to look at him.

' _What are you thinking...when you look at the Sea?'_ his hands asked, the circuit lines on his fingers flashing in the dim light. _'You have a far-off look in your eyes when you look at it.'_

With a wry smile on her face, Feral said, “I wish that I could show my friend, Alan, the Sea...”

Rinzler's processes seized for a moment as he heard his own voice, rough with distortion asking, “Alan?”

_No, it couldn't be Alan-1 Feral was speaking of...it must be some other User..._

“Yeah,” she continued, unaware of the effect the name had on him. “My friend Alan's a programmer—he works for a company called Encom—well, he's on the board of directors now. If you ask him, he will tell you he hasn't programmed anything in years; however, I've seen what he can do when he wants to...there are a lot of impressive security programs out there that are still being used years—I mean cycles—after he wrote them. At least, they were being used when I came here; I can't imagine them not being used still."

He would have loved to have seen this—an entire Sea of raw code—in a digital world. It's amazing, even for me. For a programmer...it's got to be incredible on levels I don't understand.”

The look on Feral's face grew soft with an expression Rinzler didn't quite understand; part amazement, part longing, part sadness...and something more. Something he didn't have a name for.

Her gaze turned back to the water, Feral said, quietly, “How did the Grid creators even come up with the idea, much less manage to actually make a sea out of raw code?”

There was silence for a long period of time before she heard Rinzler's voice; rough, slightly agitated and with his growl faintly underlying it as he spoke.

“There was only one.”

“One?”

“One creator. The Grid was created by one User. I don't know how he managed to create the Sea...he never explained programming to me.”

Feral stared, fascinated, at Rinzler. “One User programmed all of this—all of the Grid—by himself? Who was he?”

Rinzler was still looking at her.

“His name was Kevin Flynn.”

“Kevin Flynn?” There was excitement in Feral's voice, now. “He was a friend of Alan's! They both worked together at Encom. Tell me about him, please,” she asked.

Rinzler looked out over the Sea.

“He created the Grid on his own; wrote the programs here himself,” he told her. “He was my friend.”

Feral couldn't seem to stop herself; she heard her own voice saying, “What happened to him? Where is Kevin Flynn now?”

Rinzler rose to stand at his full height, still staring over the Sea.

“He died,” Rinzler said, his voice strained. “I failed to save him.”

Having said that, Rinzler turned and began to walk away, back up the beach to where they had begun.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

CLU leaned back in his chair as he went over the list of issues on the touchscreen pad in his hand.  He sighed and rubbed his forehead in irritation, closing his eyes for a moment. 

The need to perfect the system continued to drive him; refusing to allow him any peace.

Rebels in the cities, finishing the Rectifier, that strange energy spike that kept appearing near the Sea of Simulation…. 

One by one, unresolved issues made their way across his thought processes, like an ‘itch that could not be scratched’, as Flynn had once called the sensation. A thought that brought up the fact that—after all these cycles—he was still no closer to capturing Flynn and his disc.

And he needed that disc. No other program knew why; he had simply ordered the capture of Flynn or his disc at any cost. But not Flynn’s deresolution. No, Flynn was needed to function. At least until CLU had integrated Flynn’s disc and coding with his own.

Unfortunately, he didn’t dare send out Rinzler. If Rinzler was ever close enough to Flynn to capture him alive, then Rinzler was close enough for Flynn to remove the over-writes that CLU had done to Rinzler’s code. As the Grid’s creator, he might not even need access to Rinzler’s disc to do so. 

No. 

It was better this way; better that Rinzler not know that Flynn still eluded CLU’s grasp. Safer that Rinzler did not even know that Flynn still lived. CLU had told the programs of the Grid that Flynn had been derezzed; and that they were searching for a rogue program, one of the rebellion’s leaders. It was safer to have done so. Safer…for everything that CLU wanted.

CLU opened his eyes again on his room; his gaze going to the window overlooking the Grid as he let his hand fall to the arm of his chair. There was so much to do still, he mused. The system was almost at its maximum potential, it only needed a little more—

“CLU?” came a soft voice from behind him, interrupting his thoughts.

Without looking away from the window, he made a ‘hmm?’ of inquiry.

Feral almost never initiated any type of conversation. She rarely even asked for more information when she was given an order. What did she want?

“Why do you hate Users so much?” she asked him in that soft voice.

CLU sat silently in his chair, continuing to look out the window before him. A moment later, a small hand was laid on his left shoulder.

 “I really want to know,” she said, her voice still soft and quiet. “Please?”

CLU turned his head and inch and slanted a look up at Feral from the corners of his eyes. It was just enough to show him the black-gloved hand that rested on his shoulder. Thin red-orange circuits ran up her first two fingers and thumb, continuing up the back of her hand.

_Like Rinzler’s_ , he thought absently as he reached over and took her hand in his right hand. Tugging on her hand, CLU pulled Feral around until she stood before him.

“You really want to know, do you?” he asked suddenly, his mellow voice filling the quiet of the room. CLU eyed the slim, black-clad figure in front of him. 

“And what are you willing to give to know that? Better yet…” he continued thoughtfully, “…what are you willing to do?”

CLU ran his gaze over Feral as she stood there, her hand still trapped in his. While the User had surprisingly minimal circuitry on her—only a few short lines on the insides of her wrists, the backs of her calves just below her knees, and the sides of her thighs and upper arms—one never failed to register them somehow. Unless you were watching the way that the two longest circuits curved down her body; one running on each side from her collarbones to her hips. Her circuits were much thinner than other programs, not even as wide as the tip of CLU’s finger.

Unbidden, the memory file of overloading his circuits with her came to mind. 

CLU had done so while trying to force a circuit overload on Feral as a punishment; knowing that she hated anything that showed he had control over her.  What better way to show he had control than to control giving her pleasure? It hadn’t worked out like planned; and while it was obvious that he had forced her to feel some pleasure, Feral had not had a circuit overload.

CLU had not thought when he decided to cause her to overload that he would actually enjoy the encounter much, considering Feral’s minimal circuitry patterns and how little Users seemed to be attuned to the system at times. Even Flynn, the ‘Creator’, was not as aware as the newest bit would have been of the system on many levels. For all of her limitations, however, the encounter with Feral had proven itself to be surprisingly… _intense_.

He would not mind doing so again; especially with a more willing partner.

CLU tugged Feral’s hand again, bringing her closer to him as he sat in his chair.

“What would you do to have the answer to that question?” he asked her again, his eyes on her face as he felt the thud of her knees bumping into the framework of the black chair he was sitting in.

He wasn’t expecting what happened next.

Feral climbed onto his lap, straddling him as she placed her knees on the chair’s seat. She looked into CLU’s eyes as she placed her hands on his shoulders.

“To get the answer to that question; I will do a lot of things,” she said, her hand sliding down from his left shoulder to stroke the first of the line of circuit bars in the logic ladder that ran down his chest.

CLU suppressed a shiver as he felt the slight electric tingle of the small circuits she had on the pads of her fingertips barely brushing his circuits.

“A lot of things,” she repeated, her left hand creeping around his other shoulder, sliding across his back as though to pull him closer. “Even this….”

With that said, she pressed her right hand hard against the circuits on his chest, simultaneously slamming her other hand onto his disc.

Images roared through CLU’s mind in answer to the voice that screamed in his head, “Show me! Show me where this all started!”

_The ISO cities crumbling and burning…the problems he had with the Renegade…Rinzler cutting a swath through ISOs as they tried to fight back or escape... Rectifying, recompiling, and reprogramming programs to make them more useful… All the work that he had done to perfect the system…_

“Further back,” the voice demanded. “Go further back. Go to the last time you saw the User you took control of the system from.”

The scene rose in CLU’s memories, playing itself out.

 _He watched as Flynn walked across the intersection of the plaza with CLU’s friend, the security monitor—_ No…he would not think that name, would not see his friend’s face as he walked with Flynn, speaking to the User as he did so. He would not hear that voice, even in his memories. He had long ago put a lock on those memories to avoid them—

_Flynn was telling the security program that he ‘…worried too much, that everything was going to be just fine…’ as CLU stepped out and called to him to gain his attention._

“ _Flynn!” he had called out, his voice echoing through the empty streets. “Am I still to create the perfect system?”_

_Flynn had looked at CLU then…still not understanding._

“ _Yeah…” the User had said, in a voice that was filled with confusion as he looked at CLU. They were no longer dressed alike, and Flynn did not seem to realize the significance of CLU changing his attire from a jacket, t-shirt, and jeans like the Flynn’s—to the sleek black gridsuit with bright yellow circuits that CLU was now wearing._

_His old friend the security program did._

_The only one that was closer to CLU than Flynn. Who had spent more time with him than even Flynn had done._ HE  _had understood as he saw CLU step back, CLU’s helmet rezzing around his head. For a moment—as four members of CLU’s new BlackGuard had stepped out from around corners to surround Flynn—CLU had hoped…CLU had thought…surely his old friend would see and understand how necessary this was…? Would join CLU in perfecting the system. They were both programs; they understood each other in a way that no User could, didn’t they?_

_And then the tall security monitor had stepped forward, taking his disc in hand._

“ _Go…” he had said to Flynn._ He did not need to hear it said, now. Even with the voice of his friend blocked from this memory, CLU knew what had been said.

_CLU turned away from the security program who the BlackGuard were now engaging in battle. He had hoped he would not need to do this himself. Watching as his User lingered near the battle—unwilling to simply leave, and apparently unable to help the program that even now was fighting for the User—CLU understood that it was up to him to deal with the User…his User. It was always meant to be him, and attempting to avoid it would only cost CLU more time and energy. It was better if he faced that fact and fulfilled his task—CLU would do what would have been unthinkable once, but now was the only option available._

_Had he not just been told he was still to create the perfect system? There was no room for the vagaries of Users in the perfect system._

_CLU quickly caught up with Flynn as he tried to escape. Grabbing the User by the throat, CLU had lifted and thrown him down the walkway. “You’ve been corrupted,” he had told the User, who was now scrambling backwards, watching wide-eyed as CLU advanced._

“ _Why…why…” the User had stammered, trying to crawl away backwards, his eyes on CLU._

_CLU had been so close, about to take Flynn’s disc and end this once and for all, when a weight slammed into him from behind…knocking him down._

_It was his friend; blindly loyal to the Users, even now._

_CLU had fallen on his back, and was punched by the slightly taller program. The security program had looked up then._

“ _Flynn…GO!” he had yelled, urging the User to flee even as CLU grappled with him to get a grip on the security monitor. CLU had tossed him off then. He rose to his feet, flipping the security program onto his back as Flynn ran from them both._

 _Furious at his friend for helping Flynn to escape…for not understanding why this HAD to be done…for betraying him…. Why didn’t he understand? Flynn was allowing the ISOs—those_ errors— _to roam the Grid unchecked. Worse, Flynn was ignoring the needs of the Basics. Flynn had created the Grid—had created THEM—and now had set them aside for something new. Flynn had betrayed them all. His friend had seen all of this…why had CLU’s friend done this? He had to know that the only way to save Flynn was to sacrifice himself; CLU controlled too much as system administrator for anything else to be able to make certain that Flynn would escape._

_Angered beyond reason at his friend’s willingness to be destroyed if it would save Flynn; CLU raised his disc above his head in both hands, bringing it down as the other program’s scream of defiance and outrage was heard._

“All the way back,” the voice insisted, even as he brought his disc down. “Go back to the very beginning. I need to see it…”

CLU didn’t want to. Didn’t want to see himself; new and naïve, believing in Flynn—in his User. But he could not resist the voice that was urging him there.

_The first thing that he was aware of was himself; kneeling before a …mirror? a hand up to touch…his hand? No, touching Flynn’s (how does he know this name?) hand. Flynn had stood at that point, Flynn’s fingers still touching his as what had been a pane of …something…disappeared. He rose to his feet to stand also._

_The figure in front of him…his—User? the word rose in his thoughts—had spoken to him, looking him in the eyes at the same time._

“ _You…are CLU,” the User said, his voice sure and proud._

“ _I am CLU,” he had replied, happy that he had made his User—Flynn, his programming helpfully supplied the information his User’s name again—proud._

“ _You will create the perfect system,” Flynn said._

“ _I WILL create the perfect system,” he responded; an engulfing purpose filling his being at the words._

_Flynn had smiled then, chuckling to himself in satisfaction as he reached out and clapped CLU on the shoulders. He had given CLU’s shoulders a slight squeeze and shook them lightly._

“ _Together, we’re going to change the world, man,” his User had said then. CLU had smiled—happy—as his User draped his arm around CLU’s shoulders and led him away to begin life on the Grid._

The memories raced through CLU in less than a picocycle, and yet took cycles to show them all to the voice. 

If another program had been in the room, they would have seen CLU and Feral; their heads thrown back, teeth gritted, backs drawn in tightly arched bows as the energy of the feedback loop flashed through their circuits.

And then it was over.

With a cry, Feral pulled her hands away from CLU’s disc and circuits. She fell onto the dark gray floor in her haste to move away from him, and started scrambling backwards until she hit the black walls of the room.

CLU’s hands slammed against the arms of his chair as he came to his feet, his face contorted in rage. A few angry strides and he was standing in front of the User who had just rifled through his memories. Feral was shaking her head, mumbling the same thing over and over.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, CLU. It should never have been done to you…”

“No, you should not have done that. And you will be a lot sorrier that you did so in just a few nanocycles,” CLU snarled at her.

Feral shook her head again, and raised a tear-streaked face to meet his gaze. “No, CLU,” she said. “I’m sorry for you. Flynn made a mistake.”

“Of course he did!” CLU raged. “The ISOs—“

“Not the ISOs,” she interrupted. “ _You._ Flynn made a mistake when he was creating  _you._ Your primary goal directive is flawed. All of this has come about because of a flaw Flynn made when he programmed you.”

It’s not too late,” she continued, her voice almost pleading with him for understanding now. “You can stop this. I’ll help you. You need to ask Flynn to fix your coding.”

“There is  _nothing_  flawed in my coding,” CLU hissed at Feral, his eyes narrowing. “My primary directives are simple and complete. I will create the perfect system; and I will change the world.  _FLYNN_  is the one who is flawed. His…infatuation with the ISOs led to him betraying us.”

“Flynn was wrong to ignore the rest of the Grid,” Feral agreed. “However, if he had properly coded you…. God, Alan could explain this so much better…” she muttered as she ran her hands up over her face and threaded her fingers into her hair. 

“CLU, if you will just listen…” she began to say, lowering her hands from her face. 

Feral barely had time to register the sense of movement before the back of CLU’s fist crashed across her face.

“The only thing needed is for you to be silent,  _USER_ ,” CLU spat at her.

Feral looked up at him from where she had fallen sprawled on the floor.

“CLU—“ her voice broke off with a pained wheeze as the toe of his boot connected with her ribs.  Curling around herself, she tried again to look up and focus on the sysadmin program as he stood above her.

“I feel sorry for you, CLU,” Feral gasped. “It doesn’t change that what you are doing is wrong.”

CLU had been drawing his foot back again to deliver another kick to her ribs. He stopped and took a step back, looking down at her with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Get out,” he said, his voice flat and emotionless. 

Feral looked up at him as she slowly and painfully picked herself up off the floor, an arm wrapped around her aching side where he had kicked her. CLU watched as she made her way over to the door. At the doorway, she hesitated.

“It hurts, doesn’t it,” she said, not looking at him. “To want to do something, to try  _ **so hard**_ , and no matter what; it’s not enough. There are some goals that you can’t reach, CLU. And if it’s the goal, not the search, that is driving you...” Feral shook her head at the thought.

“Flynn didn’t know what he wanted when he coded you. You can’t give someone what they want or need, if they don’t know what that  _IS._ ”

I know what that feels like.”

“Get out. Before I derezz you myself.”

The door opened, and Feral left.

 

* * *

 

 

Rinzler had not been back from patrol long. He was in the quarters that he shared with Feral when the door opened and Feral entered.

Rinzler took a quick look at her as she slowly came into the room. Taking in the rapidly blooming bruise on her face, and the way that she held an arm curled protectively around her side; he gave a growling sigh.

“What happened?” he asked her bluntly.

Feral’s tired voice answered him. “I was taking a walk down memory lane and tripped.” She settled herself, sitting on the floor next to the black wall and leaning her head back with a small groan.

“And in Grid terms…?” Rinzler asked, cocking his head slightly.

Feral gave a tired sigh. Shifting her gaze from the ceiling to the program in front of her, she signed to him.

‘ _I hacked CLU’s memory files.’_

“WHAT!?”

She winced at the sound. “If you’re going to shout, could you sign it? I promise I’ll watch.”

‘ _Which memories?’_ came the signed question.

In a weary voice, she told him. “Virtually everything since he took control of the Grid…the coup itself…and his creation.”

“What were you processing, Feral?!” Rinzler yelled at her. “CLU might have derezzed you for that!”

“Do you recall that part about  _not_ shouting?” she said, a pained expression on her face.

The tall program threw his hands in the air in frustration. Turning away, he crossed his arms and went to stand at the window, looking out over the city below. She had noticed that he often did that when he was upset or unsettled about something; it seemed to set off his monitor coding, making Rinzler want to watch and see that the programs below him were safe. From where she sat, she could see the tension in him now, evident in the tight way that he held himself.

Several nanocycles passed that way.

“He misses the way it was in the beginning,” came a tired voice from behind where Rinzler stood.  “The three of you together.”

This was met by silence.

“He thought of you as his best friend; even closer to him than Flynn was.”

More silence.

“I know that you considered him a friend, as well.”

“Flynn was my friend,” was Rinzler’s growled reply. “CLU was the sysadmin.”

“Yes. Only the system administrator. Which would be why you tried to have a fist-fight with him instead of using your disc to derezz him when he was distracted,” Feral said, not bothering to keep the irony out of her voice.

“That’s why—even now—CLU refuses to remember.”

“Remember what?” came the growled question.

“Your voice, your face, what your name was.”

“He…. You didn’t….”

Feral fought the urge to sigh at the unasked question in Rinzler’s voice before answering. “No, Rinzler, I didn’t. Your privacy is still complete. CLU put a lock on some of his memory files. Even he can’t access them without a passcode,” she said, her voice tired.

“The worst part is…this could all have been avoided. It didn’t have to happen.” She waited, watching him. The tense muscles in his back and the angry distorted growl were the only signs that Rinzler was still listening to her. 

 “CLU has a flaw in his coding. His primary directive is flawed; so no matter what he does, he fails to reach his goal. CLU’s trying so hard, and he’s going about it the wrong way,” Feral said, speaking to the security program’s back.

 

“Are you trying to say that CLU isn’t responsible for what he’s done? To the Grid, to…to… _everything_?” snarled an angry voice by the window.

“No, CLU’s responsible for what he’s done.” Her voice grew even softer. “And so is Kevin Flynn.”

A moment later, Feral was hauled upright and off her feet by Rinzler’s hand; his fist gripping the throat of her gridsuit. She looked into the sharp angles of his solid black helmet as he jerked her nearer.

“Flynn  _ **loved**_  this system!” he snarled at her. “He would never have coded anything that would have hurt it.  _ **I**_  knew him,  _ **you**_ didn’t. You will not talk to me about the User I failed to save like this! Do you understand?”

Feral looked into the empty blackness before her; her gaze searching for eyes that she had never seen.

“You didn’t fail,” she told him. “CLU has never found him.”

Rinzler froze at her words, holding her up in the air in front of him for a moment longer. Abruptly he released his grip, leaving her to fall in a heap on the floor. Turning away, the security program walked to the door. As soon as it opened, he went through it, leaving Feral to stare at the door that rapidly closed behind him.

Feral looked at the closed door for a long moment before speaking, her voice still quiet and full of heartfelt conviction.

“Damn you, Kevin Flynn. Damn you and your arrogance. Do you even understand what you have done to them?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me guess...
> 
> You love Spike. (How could you not?)  
> You were surprised by Feral but you were shocked by Rinzler's actions at the end of the chapter.  
> Well, he has a temper.  
> Don't be so surprised; Tron had a temper too, remember? Rinzler is Tron, pulled and twisted into something different; however, you can only use what is at hand when you do so.
> 
> I never promised you heroes in this story. You have to decide for yourself what is the definition of a hero.
> 
> Is it someone who is always nice, polite, good...the one with great hair who never gets hurt and never hurts anyone but the bad guys? Or is it the one who does there best no matter how much or how little that is? The one who is trying to protect their charges as well as they can?
> 
> And if that is a hero...how can you tell who the villains are in the story?  
> What if they are also doing the best that they can?
> 
> Feel free to comment/PM/review. I'd love some feedback on these questions.


	18. Mere Anarchy is Loosed on Upon the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What do you have to do for a chance to go out while on the Grid?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feral meets some new programs.
> 
> Song list for chapter:  
> a) 'Smack My B*tech Up' by Prodigy  
> b) 'Antidote' by Swedish House Mafia vs. Knife Party  
> c) 'Galloway Reel' traditional Irish song  
> d)'Animals' by Martin Garrix

“How much longer, do you think?” Feral asked, leaning forward to rest her loosely-folded arms across the handlebars of her lightcycle. Just under her ribs, there was a muffled 'no' that came from a bubble coded into the lightcycle's frame. Feral made a shushing sound and looked back up to the figure that waited on the beach.

At the edge of the water the Rinzler's tall, lean form crouched as he ran another set of scans.

“One—possibly one and a half more cycles until it is completely safe for programs,” he called back to her. “There are fewer copies of the virus appearing on scans each time. The viruses that do appear haven't changed; they actually seem weaker...as though the code for it is becoming damaged and prone to fragmenting.”

“How did this happen, anyhow?” she questioned.

“How did what happen?” Rinzler seemed slightly distracted as he answered.

“The virus—this is a closed system, right? There shouldn't have been a virus—so how did it infect the Sea?”

Rinzler's shoulders slumped—just a little—for a fraction of a picocycle before straightening again.

“It was manufactured,” he told her. “Originally, it only affected the ISOs; so it was called the ISO virus. It still is...even though the ISOs never created it. After several decacycles, we learned that the virus was capable of infecting Basics; it had evolved during its time in the Sea.”

Feral drew herself a bit more upright on the lightcycle, horrified by what she had just heard.

“Someone _made_ the virus? Why would anyone want to do that?!”

“They did it because they hated the ISOs. With the virus poisoning the Sea, there were no more ISOs emerging from it.” There was a bitter, scraping sound that might have been a small laugh as Rinzler continued, “I wonder if the fact that ISOs would also derezz if exposed to it was originally intended, or just a much appreciated side-effect?”

“Did—did you ever learn who infected the Sea?”

“Yes,” came the answer, Rinzler's voice flat with no inflection to it. “I learned who.”

In the bubble on the lightcycle's frame there was a small flicker of light, another indignant, muffled 'no,' and the sound of something bumping itself against the bubble; as if the bubble's occupant was trying to find a way out.

Without looking down, Feral stroked her fingers over the bubble and murmured, “Sshhush, Spike. Not now. I'll let you out when we are back home.”

Rinzler looked over at where Feral waited, rising to stand as he did so.

' _Why didn't you let him out when we first arrived?'_ he asked, signing.

Feral shook her head.

“He throws a tantrum about getting back in the bubble when we're out here,” she said. “We don't have time to chase him around the beach until he either gets tired or bored enough to ride back in the bubble.”

Rinzler could still hear Feral muttering under her breath that “chasing Spike was harder than chasing Travis...and elderly, three-legged beagles can move very fast when they want to...” It was one more piece to the puzzle of Feral—and once again it matched up with nothing that he knew about.

There was an even louder, more indignant—if possible--'No!' from the bubble as Spike disagreed with Feral's decision.

Rinzler reached for his lightcycle baton. He began rezzing his lightcycle up as he told her, “Let's go. The sooner we can let him out, the happier all of us will be.”

“Yes!” squealed Spike happily.

 

* * *

 

a) 

' _Again,'_ came the signed order.

Behind the blank, black visor of her helmet, Feral scowled at the command. She was tired, and her muscles ached painfully. After all this time training with Rinzler; however, she had learned not to show any of it. He had warned her time and time again that showing any sign of weariness or weakness would be the same as handing a disc to an opponent and telling them where to strike.

Even so, it was hard not to let a little of her annoyance and exhaustion show. They had run over fifteen games simulations—most of them the physically demanding disc wars simulations—and Feral wanted nothing more that to flop down on a bed and pant for breath until her heart stopped pounding so hard and her muscles no longer twitched from over-use.

Feral took a deep breath, judged the position and readiness of her opponent, and let her disc fly. She was getting better—there was no doubt about that—at every aspect of the Games; after the last several mylacycles, her usage of Rinzler's trademark acrobatic and aerial maneuvers had increased dramatically.

' _Again.'_

During the last mylacycle, one of the militarized security programs had congratulated Rinzler on a well-run simulation. Behind her helmet, Feral had smirked to herself as she watched the scene play out in front of her. Rinzler had simply turned is head—his electronic growl an almost inaudible rumble—and stared at the program for a moment before looking away again; leaving a confused, stammering and very nervous program looking for an exit. It was even more amusing to watch because both Feral and Rinzler knew that Rinzler had not run any simulations that mylacycle...the security program had been watching Feral.

' _Again.'_

None of the simulations that Rinzler was running this microcycle were easy. They were all simulations of final round opponents—the Games combatants that had made it all the way to the end; all the way to facing Rinzler in the final round.

The added cherry on the top, thought Feral, was that he had chosen _combat-trained final round combatants._ Now, how exactly was that fair? To handpick the hardest possible opponents and then send them against her over and over again. She felt like she had been run through the Games herself—twice—before reaching this point and the only thing that Rinzler had said each time she derezzed an opponent was a signed, ' _Again'._ It was frustrating, it was maddening, and she really just wanted to—.

“Defeat one more opponent and you can rest.”

 _Oh, thank you, Grid—wait a moment,_ Feral thought to herself, _...Rinzler just pulled his discs..._

 _“_ You?”

“Me.”

“Fine,” Feral said, her voice short. She was tired, she hurt everywhere, and crash it, she wanted that rest break! If she had to beat Rinzler to do it....

Before she finished the thought her disc was streaking through the air.

Less than a heartbeat later, Rinzler's disc was curving through space en route to where Feral was standing. She jumped into the air, twisting as she did so, leaving Rinzler's first disc to slice through the space beneath her and the second to pass harmlessly overhead as she dropped below it. Feral landed in a three-point crouch, then launched herself into a series of front flips—picking up speed as she did so—that brought her close enough to end in a kick to Rinzler's head. He ducked the first kick, then grabbed her ankle and twisted, turning her in the air.

Feral dropped to the ground, then kicked out—spinning on her shoulderblades to gain the range of motion she needed—and leg-swept Rinzler off of his feet. He fell back, turning it into a back-flip and launching one of his discs at her at the same time. She leapt up, clutching her legs as she somersaulted above the disc; aiming herself like a ball at the tall figure beginning to stand. Feral hit Rinzler's chest feet-first, knocking him down onto his back. He retaliated by kicking up, planting his left foot in her mid-section as he simultaneously caught her arms, sending her flying over his head to slam into the ground behind him.

Feral's back hit the ground hard, jarring her disc dock and knocking the breath out of her at the same time. She gritted her teeth, trying to get her breath back and move at the same time when Rinzler's body seemed to fold in upon itself, turning over until he had her pinned. As though in slow motion, Feral could see Rinzler's left hand coming up, a blur of light and color moving closer to her throat.

 _React!_ Her mind screamed at herself, _do the unexpected—find a way to use his attack to cover one of your own. He's focused on keeping you pinned and positioning himself for a final strike; use that against him—he's close enough to reach with an attack of your own...._

Rinzler seemed to roll up and over Feral, ending with his knees to either side of her waist and his active disc just under her chin.

“You lost,” he told her, his voice gravel-rough.

Feral retracted her helmet and gave him a pained grin. “So did you...” she said, her voice hoarse as she tried to catch her breath.

Rinzler followed her gaze down to where she held her own disc next to his side—under the edge of his ribs. The slightest twitch of her hand would have resulted in his deresolution if Feral's disc had been active. He nodded shortly in acknowledgment, then stepped back; deactivating his disc as he did so.

Feral blinked at him for a second, then asked, “When did you activate your disc?”

“My discs have been active for the entire match,” he told her, giving her a hand up. “You did very well...I would have deactivated them if I thought you were not up to the challenge.”

Rinzler stopped for a moment then, cocking his head to the side as he listened to the music playing around them.

“Isn't this the same User music from our first match?” he asked, listening to the hard thumping beat.

“Umm, yeah,” Feral replied, giving him a mildly sheepish look and rubbing the back of her neck as she did so. “I think it might be the same...”

Rinzler just looked at Feral for a moment, the blank, black face of his helmet giving away none of his thoughts before saying, “You did much better this time around.”

Feral's jaw dropped. She stared at him for a moment, dumbfounded. It only lasted a moment, and then her raised voice was heard.

“Better?! I won that match!”

“You did not win; you were pinned and under immediate threat of deresolution—“

“And you weren't? My disc could have ended you and you wouldn't have been able to stop it...”

“A draw then...a stalemate.”

There was silence for a few picocycles.

“Alright, we'll call it a draw,” Feral said, grumpily.

Rinzler's rasping chuckle could be heard. “Cheer up, Feral,” he told her. “You didn't do that bad. Even with the code upgrades your User-render frame still isn't as strong as most programs. You're not as fast as some of the militarized security programs—like the BlackGuard—either. You—“

“Not making me feel better about this, just so you know,” interrupted Feral, her expression sour.

Rinzler's odd chuckle grew louder.

“Feral,” he said, gently, “You just fought the Grid's best combat-trained security program to a standstill.”

If you can do that, you can defeat any other program on the Grid. You just have to make certain that you are never in a position to let them overwhelm you with sheer strength. Do your best to keep the matches from going on too long with experienced opponents—you will tire and lose your strength before they do.”

She could almost hear the smile in his voice as Rinzler told her, “You did it, Feral. You have learned enough to survive the Games...any and all of them.”

Feral blinked at Rinzler for a moment, uncomprehendingly. The smile, when it came, grew slowly and spread across her face, brightening her features.

“I-I did it?” she said. “I did! I did it Rinzler!” Feral let out a wild 'whoop' of excitement; jumping in the air and punching it with her fist as she did so. “I...did...it!”

Her face was flushed as she whirled around to face Rinzler again.

“Now that you know I'll be safe around other programs—not just the guards and soldiers when we patrol—can we go somewhere to celebrate?” She grinned at the tall Grid monitor before adding, “Please? I promise not to get injured...”

Rinzler made a considering sound low in his throat before saying, “I don't see why not. You have earned a chance to enjoy yourself a little.” His tilted his head to the side. “Do you have somewhere specific you want to go to?

Feral's smile changed as he watched. It grew more secretive, with a hint of malice hiding in the edges.

“I know just where I want to go,” she told Rinzler.

 

* * *

 

b) 

They left the street, clipping the batons to their legs as they entered the elevator to take them up to the top level of the building, where the club was located.

The End Of Line club.

The doors to the elevator had scarcely closed when Feral strode to the wall that joined the building as the elevator moved up and down, carrying passengers up to the various locations in the building—including the club that occupied the top floors.

She spread her fingers as her hand made contact with the wall, a look of concentration on her face as fragments of code began to display themselves in front of her.

“What are you doing?” Rinzler asked her.

Feral didn't even look up from the code before her. “Hacking the club's sound system.”

“Why?”

She motioned to the air around them. “The song playing now...?”

“Yes?”

“I want them to hear it in the club. Especially Castor...”

“They'll know something is coming,” he told her. “If they know that, they might guess it's you.”

Feral still had that strange, secretive smile on her face. As Rinzler watched, the smile sharpened; becoming predatory and vicious.

“Good,” she said.

Around them, a song began to play; the beat anticipatory, tension building with each floor that they passed.

 

* * *

 

 

The song was throbbing throughout the club when the elevator doors opened. Inside, Rinzler could see Castor questioning the DJs; an unaccustomed look of confusion on his face.

* * *

 

Castor had always prided himself on knowing and having more information pass through his hands than any other program on the Grid. To not know what was happening with his club's sound system—not even his DJs knew what had happened—was maddening to the club manager. Castor glanced up at the sight of the door opening, his eyebrows rising even higher at the programs that were entering the End Of Line.

Rinzler was practically notorious for never interacting with other programs when he was off-duty. He was usually seen either in the Games, with CLU, or on patrol with CLU's pet program by his side.

And yet here Rinzler was, with CLU's pet program striding out into the club before him as the elevator doors closed.

Ah, yes...CLU's little pet. She had been interesting. _Pity_ , Castor thought to himself, _that I was not been able to spend the time to...get to know her better._ He would have returned her to CLU before too much time would have passed; however, Rinzler had appeared to collect CLU's little runaway pet without Castor learning more about her than the fact that she could handle more energy—even tainted with malware coding—than any other program on the Grid. Well, he couldn't say as to Rinzler's abilities in that regard; the security program would never be so incautious as to risk becoming over-charged around other programs.

 

* * *

 

Feral stalked out of the elevator, her gaze fixed on only one thing: Castor. The pale, white-clad program had looked up from the DJ booth when she and Rinzler had entered the club and was now making his way towards the front of the club.

“Ah, Rinzler! An unexpected pleasure, to be certain,” Castor was saying, the hand holding his cane raised aloft as though in salute. “I see you brought CLU's little pet wit—“

Whatever Castor might have said next was cut off short by Feral's leg sweeping Castor's feet out from under him, her right arm coming around for her hand to grab Castor by the throat and use his own weight to slam him into the floor of the club. Feral followed him down, kneeling with one of her knees on Castor's chest, pinning him in place.  
Around them, the random chatter of club-goers fell silent, the only sounds a dropped glass shattering and the music that continued to play—ignoring the efforts of the DJs to silence or change it.

“Hello, Castor,” she hissed at him, that secretive smile on her face hinting at the potential for violence.

“I know I haven't forgotten you...” Feral said. “Do you remember me?”

“Of course, I remember CLU's pet—“ he began, only to have his head slammed against the floor.

“I'm not CLU's pet,” she told him, with a growl that would have done Rinzler proud. “And CLU isn't the one holding my leash; he gave me to someone else.” Feral slid her gaze to Rinzler and then back to Castor; smiling to see that the club manager's eyes had also looked at the security program that stood nearby, watching them.

“If I had to guess, I would say that he doesn't care for you much,” Feral said, lightly. “I don't think he would be very upset if you were to be damaged...or derezzed.”

Now, I think that you owe me a drink to replace the last one you served me. Oh, and Castor,” Feral leaned closer, her breath a hot whisper in his ear as she told him, “If I ever _think_ that you have slipped malicious code or anything else like that in another one of my drinks...nothing will keep you safe; not CLU, not even Rinzler. Rinzler might even derezz you himself.”

As she finished speaking, Castor gave a furtive glance over to where Rinzler waited, a dark and dangerous figure. The pale hexagons of Castor's pupils spread wider and he nodded his head.

“I—that won't be a problem,” he said, trying to recover his usual glib tone of voice.

Feral smiled again, that same secretive smile—that was rapidly becoming one of the most frightening things that Castor had seen in cycles—on her face as she stepped back to let him rise.

“Send my drink to the DJ booth,” Feral called over her shoulder as she walked away. Behind her, Castor was rising from the floor, a nervous laugh leaving his lips as he cheered her 'unexpected demonstration' for making the millicycle more exciting for the club-goers.

Rinzler intercepted Feral on her way to the booth that held the club's two DJs.

' _What was that?_ ' he signed to her.

' _Something that needed to be done_ ,' Feral signed back, her face empty. ' _And now I can enjoy a drink without having to worry about Castor's little coding additions._ '

 _'It's going to attract attention..._ '

Feral shrugged. ' _Coming here attracted attention. Now it will be cautious attention_.'

Rinzler watched as Feral continued to make her way to the booth that held the club's two DJs. Little as he wanted to admit it, Rinzler knew she was right. It was better for the programs to be wary of her. It would be lonelier...however, it would help keep her safe.

 

* * *

 

c)

Feral kept walking to the DJ booth. Inside the booth, she could see the DJs making their way around the booth, apparently trying to regain control of the club's sound system.

They looked a little different than the other programs she had seen around the Grid. Both of them wore helmets that completely covered their faces, with visors that were much smaller than the ones found on armored programs. Even the most basic of programs had the option of a full visor for their helmets; however, the two DJs seemed to have the limited visors hard-coded for their helmets.

As she came closer, Feral saw one DJ look up and elbow his smaller partner in the side to get his partner's attention. The smaller program looked at his partner, question marks scrolling across his visor as he did so. The taller of the programs motioned with his chin towards Feral, causing the shorter program to turn until both programs were facing her.

For some reason, Feral felt almost shy as she reached the DJ booth.

“Hello,” she said, a small, quick smile flickering across her face as she did so. “I, um, I'm the one that hacked your sound system...”

The two programs looked at each other in surprise, then pointed at the MP3 file still playing and then pointing at Feral.

“Yeaahh,” she said, “that one...”

The shorter program pushed a little forward to tap a finger on the MP3 file emphatically.

Feral looked down at the file, comprehension coming a moment later.

“Oh! You want to know where the file came from?”

Both programs were nodding now, 'Yes!' scrolling across their visors at the same time.

She blinked for a moment. Even off the Grid, DJs wanted to know about new music; however, they usually just wanted to get more...not learn where it came from. That was a question more like what musicians wanted to know—

Feral felt the smile spread across her face...

“MIDIs!” she said, grinning delightedly. “You two are midi programs, aren't you?”

More nods from the programs in the booth.

She tilted her head a little to the side, getting a better look at them. “Don't talk much, do you?”

The DJs shook their heads. 'Music is better...' scrolled across the visor of the taller of the two.

The laugh burst from Feral's lips unexpectedly, surprising even her with its sound. “Like a true musician,” she said, teasingly. “The MP3 file is a User-style one. I have several, if you would like to have some copies.”

'YES!' was scrolling in all capital letters across both visors now.

A strange, short conversation began between the three music lovers; some words, many gestures, and a few scrolled words and symbols making up the communication. The DJs were thrilled with every song file that Feral sent copies of in data bursts to the booth, giving her the permissions to hack straight into the DJ booth to speed the process. They began to play with some of the files; changing them slightly and giving them an unmistakable 'Grid' twist. While unexpected, Feral was certain that their version of the 'Galloway Reel' was a new favorite. Feral often found herself shifting or swaying in time with the finished music files.

Finally, several nanocycles later, one of the server programs came by with Feral's drink and a message for the DJs.

“Here's your drink, compliments of the house.” A drink was put on the edge of the booth that Feral was leaning against, easily within her reach.

The server—a tall, dark-skinned female program that resembled the armory sirens in many ways—then turned to the DJs, setting her tray down on the edge of the booth. “Castor says that you've spent enough time interacting with only one of the guests. He wants something to get programs either back out on the dance floor, or interested in ordering drinks.” The server rolled her eyes as she delivered the message, a sardonic twist to her smile as she did. “I think he's jealous of the fact that this pretty program seems to like you two more than she likes him,” the program told them, glancing over at Feral as she spoke. “He's used to being the attention-getter in the club, and YOU...” she said to Feral, “dropped him like lag code, then ignored him for the DJs. I expect Castor to be annoying until someone new pays attention to him.” She smiled at Feral as she picked up her tray. “Feel free to find me if you need something,” the server said, rocking back on her heels a little. “A drink, a dance partner...I'll be around.” The server winked and walked back into the crowd, on her way to take more drink orders.

Feral stared after the server, then turned to the two programs next to her. “I think her visual sensors need adjusting,” she told them. “That server just called me pretty.”

The taller DJ shrugged. 'Iva has always liked interesting programs...' he scrolled on his visor.

“But I'm not pretty,” Feral protested. “I've got a big scar across my face, for Grid's sake!”

'Iva,' the smaller program scrolled, repeating his partner's words, 'has always liked interesting programs.'

Feral stared at them for a moment, then gave a small grin.

“And you know that Iva likes interesting programs...how?”

The two programs looked at each other; then pointing at each other, they scrolled 'Interesting' at the same time.

Letting out a low laugh, Feral said, “I'll just bet she found you interesting. And you? Did the two of you find Iva interesting?”

The smaller program shook his head. 'Music,' he scrolled, 'is interesting.'

His partner nodded in agreement before tapping the console to show that they needed to return to their duties.

Curious as to why two Midi programs would be satisfied merely DJ-ing, Feral asked them, “Why do you work for Castor? Isn't there somewhere else you would rather work? He seems like he works you hard...”

The programs nodded, then the taller of the two scrolled, 'We work harder, but the music is better. When the beats come faster, we can make the music stronger. Worth working with Castor....'

The smaller program waved at her, then tapped his partner on the arm. 'Our work is never over...'

Feral smiled again. “I'll leave you to your work,” she told them, “but I will bring more MP3 files the next time I come to the club."

 

* * *

 

With the extra coding that Rinzler had given her along with the combat upgrades, it was a simple matter for Feral to scan the drink for malicious coding. When the scans came back as 'clean', she took a sip.

Whatever the type of energy was in the drink she had been given, it was strong.

During her time doing patrols with Rinzler, Feral had been given several different types of energy to sample,; in increasingly larger amounts. Rinzler had even given her a small amount of raw, unprocessed energy to try once _('Go slow,'_ he had signed as he gave it to her, ' _You don't want to have an energy purge with large amounts in your system if you can't tolerate it...' 'What's an energy purge?'_ she had asked in sign. Rinzler's reply had been, _'Exactly what it sounds like—unpleasant.')._ The few facts they had discovered by doing this were: Feral could safely ingest all of the energy in the system, processed and filtered or not; and, Feral couldn't get over-charged on energy like a program would.

Given too much energy, most programs would either find their mood becoming more mellow with the urge to enter a sleep-cycle; or, they would become manic, belligerent, uncoordinated and loud—resembling many Users in that fashion.

Feral sipped again at her drink; the flavor was unidentifiable to her but the energy made everything seem bright and sharp-edged. It reminded her of the espressos she loved to drink before coming to the Grid. Most energy had the same effect on her, heightening her concentration and making her more alert—it was almost the exact opposite of the effects of alcohol on her system.

Not that she had ever been a heavy drinker before the Grid. The most Feral had on a regular basis was the occasional glass or two of wine with dinner, maybe a celebratory champagne toast. The one and only time she had decided to purposefully become drunk had been when she broke up with Blaine.

She had gone to the liquor store and come back with a bottle of cheap bourbon, before proceeding to stay drunk for a week. It had taken a tearful, late-night call to Alan before she crawled out of the bottle; and only because both Alan and Lora had both showed up at her apartment and insisted on staying until she was sober enough for her to deal with the break-up without them worrying that she would start drinking again. It turned out that it wasn't such a big worry, after all. By the time Feral had survived what she felt like must have been the worst hang-over known to man, she couldn't even tolerate the _smell_ of bourbon without becoming sick. She didn't remember that week, purchasing several other bottles of alcohol, or even the phone call that led to Alan and Lora's visit. Feral didn't like to think or talk about it...she wasn't proud of that week and would have preferred for it to have never occurred.

Energy, though...energy she could drink almost non-stop without ill effects. The worst thing that had happened so far when she drank too much (was there a too much? It didn't seem like it...) was a tendency to either pace or nag Rinzler into extra training sessions. It was a bit like having large amounts of caffeine before bed...you didn't feel like sleeping, even if you were tired. Feral took another large swallow of the drink in her hand, her eyes picking out the shape of a program making his way over to where she was standing.

“Hello,” the new program was saying, his eyes flicking up and down her body as he talked. “What are you drinking?”

 

* * *

 

Castor stood watching as CLU's –or Rinzler's, he really didn't care much either way—little pet (what was her designation again? Ah, yes...Feral) stood at the DJ booth. She was laughing at something the DJs had done.

Laughing...just like the crowd had laughed. It hadn't been much, or loud; just a few chuckles when he told them it was a 'demonstration'.

But they had laughed at _him—_ at Castor. Not at something he had said, some little tidbit of gossip or a witty bon mot; no, they had laughed at the sight of some relatively unknown little program putting him flat on his back on the floor of his own club. A little more anger curled up in him and Castor gritted his teeth at the thought.

It would have been something completely different if it had been Rinzler himself, or even one of the other security programs. Instead, it had been Feral. CLU could say whatever he wanted about how his adaptive program was being readied for the Games, but until she proved herself in a match she was considered to be the same as any other program on the Grid...and no more dangerous than a lone gridbug. Annoying, but easily dealt with or ignored.

No one was ignoring her. Castor glanced around the End of Line, noticing how many of the club's patrons were giving her their attention. Attention that should have been directed in other areas; areas like the bar, or the dance floor. Why did they even bother? Certainly, she was different; however, the sirens were far more fascinating. Even as he thought this, the door opened an one of the armory sirens from the Games entered the club. She smiled at Castor as she neared him.

Castor looked at the siren heading his way, a thin smile on his face as he got an idea of how to handle a certain program.

“Gem, my darling! What a pleasure it is to see you here.” Castor offered the siren his arm, adding in a lower tone of voice, “I want a message sent to CLU...”

 

* * *

 

d)

Feral smiled again at the program next to her. His green eyes twinkled from behind shaggy dark -brown bangs as he danced. She had to look up to meet his eyes, but not as much as when she was trying to look Rinzler in the eyes—or where she hoped Rinzler's eyes were behind his visor—as the data-transfer program was several inches shorter than Rinzler.

Frex, as he told Feral he was called, was a lot of fun and not a bad dancer. After eight years of dancing without a partner, she had thought it would be awkward to dance with someone; however, it had felt as normal as if it had only been a month or two since the last time. She was enjoying herself too much to want to question it or think too hard about just how long she had been in the system.

Thoughts like that could be depressing, and for the first time since Feral came to the Grid she had the chance to relax and have fun—just like everyone else at the End of Line.

Frex, meanwhile kept moving closer as they danced. It hadn't been an issue at first; however, now the program was becoming more insistent. While they had enjoyed a few drinks and a few dances, Feral was not about to make the mistake of believing that she could be friends with the data-transfer program. She knew only too well that no matter how nice a program seemed, CLU could rectify them at any time. Getting too close to a program was simply not an option for her.

Unfortunately, getting much closer seemed to be what Frex was after.

“So,” he was saying, crowding closer and leaning down to almost whisper in her ear. “I'm not scheduled for an active function status for another millicycle...why don't we go have some fun? We could use the couches in the back to relax and enjoy some circuit stimulation or interfacing. If you're feeling a little shy, we can also go to my quarters. They're not far from the End of Line...”

Feral shook her head, still smiling as she stepped back.

“No thanks,” she told him. “This has been fun; but the dance is all I'm interested in doing.”

“Come on...we don't have to stop here,” Frex wheedled, “we don't even have to leave the club...”

“No, Frex,” Feral said, her voice firm. “If you don't want to dance, I'll leave.”

The program's eyes darkened. “I thought we were having a good time,” he said, his tone becoming surly. “We've been dancing...that was high-grade energy I bought you...”

“Yes, and it was very nice. I'm still not interested, and now—I don't think I'm interested in that dance, either.” She turned to walk away.

“I'm not done yet,” Frex was saying as he reached out and grabbed her elbow.

Feral turned and looked up at him. “Let go of my arm.” Her voice was hard as she spoke.

“Listen, you little code-tease—“ he snapped, reaching with his left hand for her shoulder to pull her closer. Frex didn't have a chance to finish whatever it was he wanted to say before Feral acted.

As soon as Frex's hand touched her shoulder, Feral's right arm was moving; her right hand closing on his upper left arm just above the elbow. At the same time, her left hand was slamming with all of her strength and speed on the area just below the elbow joint on the same arm.

The 'crack' of breaking code was audible even over the music. The music itself was drowned out a moment later by Frex's piercing scream of pain. Feral's right hand reached over her shoulder, freeing her disc and activating it. She pulled it back, ready to strike...

“FERAL! STAND DOWN, NOW!”

The entire club fell silent at the shouted order. On the dance floor, Feral's head shot up; a belligerent look on her face as though she was considering ignoring the order out of sheer defiance.

At the edge of the dance floor, Rinzler was giving a short, sharp 'no' shake of his head. Standing just before him was CLU, gold-circuit edged cloak moving about his ankles as he took a step onto the dance floor.

The system admin program came a little closer, saying as he did so, “Let him go. I think he has learned his lesson.”

Feral cast another quick glance over at Rinzler, who made a small movement with one hand. She lowered her disc slowly, then shoved the now-whimpering program to sprawl on the floor further away from her as he clutched his damaged arm.

“Fine,” she snarled, “he can go. Next time a program tells him no, he'll listen.” With that said, Feral took a step over and past him. “I was ready to leave, anyway,” she added, in a lower voice. It only took a few steps before she was standing even with CLU.

“I see you are ready for the Games,” CLU said, his voice mild and even as she moved by him. “You will join the next ones that are scheduled...”

Feral hesitated at his words, trying not to appear startled or surprised by what she had just been told.

“It's time for both of you to return to quarters,” CLU told Rinzler, turning to leave the dance floor as he did.

He spoke again, addressing the manager of the End of Line, “I'll have a drink, Castor. You can make it for me in your private lounge. We have business to discuss.”

 

* * *

 

 

“There has to be something more you can tell me.”

Detective Raul Garza leaned forward in his worn desk chair, a creaking sound accompanying the move. He sighed a little as he looked at the business man sitting in an office chair on the other side of his desk. This wasn't the first time he had spoken to the man, and it hadn't become any easier. The veteran detective ran a hand over his broad face, pushing his dark hair up over his forehead as he did so. His wife was always telling him he should just get a buzz-cut so he would stop messing up his hair six times a day.

“Mr. Bradley, I wish I did have more to tell you. We have no new leads in your friend's missing persons case. You told us that she was alone in the arcade when you left. We have footage from the traffic camera at the corner showing the two of you arriving, going into the arcade, and you leaving—alone. We have no footage of her leaving.” Around the two of them, other officers and people moved and spoke, busy with their own cases.

Detective Garza reached for the file on top of a stack of several that rested to the side of his desk. Flipping it open, he began speaking again.

“You told us yourself that she had gone through some difficulty in her personal life recently—“

Alan Bradley grimaced a little at those words. He glared at the officer in front of him.

“That has nothing to do with her being missing,” he said. His hands tightened where they rested on the chair arms as the detective continued as though having never been interrupted.

“Failed relationship, constant travel—I've seen the photos of her apartment, Mr. Bradley, almost no personal items in it—no pets, the woman didn't even have houseplants....”

Alan's eyes narrowed and he said, tightly, “That would have resulted in a lot of dead plants, considering how much traveling she did for her job.”

Detective Garza gave a small nod at that fact. “Granted, that's true; however, when we factor in elderly, disabled parents—“

“The Larssons are not 'disabled' and I recommend that you never suggest such a thing to them or their daughter.”

“Mr. Bradley—despite what you may feel, Mr. Larsson has a life-long physical disability. His wife has health problems that have been present for years and are incurable.

This looks less like a missing persons case and more like a case of someone who couldn't handle the stress and potential responsibilities of her life. It wouldn't be the first time someone has just...run away from it all.”

You of all people should understand this situation. Didn't your other friend—“

There was a scraping sound as the office chair was pushed back and its occupant stood up. When Detective Garza looked up the fury on the face of the man before him was evident.

“Kevin Flynn did not 'run away',” Alan Bradley was saying, anger hot in his voice. “I don't know what happened to him, or where he is, but he did not run away. He never would have left his family and friends behind to worry about him. Never. Something happened to him, and something has happened to my friend now.”

It's been almost two months since she went missing. She _never_ goes this long without contacting someone—family and friends. No one has heard anything from her. She's not hiding, she's missing and that means she needs help.”

Detective Garza's voice was quiet and matter of fact when he spoke again.

“Mr. Bradley...There were no signs of forced entry or struggle. Cell phone records show that she did not make or receive any calls or texts that night that would suggest she left due to duress or threats against herself or another person. There is no footage of her leaving the arcade with anyone. There have been no tips, no reports of sightings, nothing since you filed the missing persons report.”

Without further leads or a miracle...there simply isn't much else we can do. Her case will remain open until she is found or is declared legally dead.”

Alan Bradley raked a hand through his greying hair, frustrated by what he was being told. He looked around the busy squad room, as though if he just looked hard enough, his friend would appear. Finally, he reached down and picked up his briefcase in preparation to leave.

“She didn't run away,” he said again, fimly; a trace of sadness and the desperation to have someone believe and agree with him leaking into his voice. “She doesn't run from anything...”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Old friends aren't forgotten friends...
> 
> Did you forget about Alan?  
> He hasn't forgotten his friends; Feral hasn't forgotten her friends, either.  
> With thanks to Yeti Longwind, for serving as fight co-ordinator for me.


	19. The Blood-dimmed Tide is Loosed, and Everywhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you and I had met under different circumstances....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N—unbeta-ed because...well, you'll understand soon enough.  
> Song list: a) One More Night by Maroon 5 b)Down by 1000 foot crutch

* * *

* * *

 

a)

“Hey, doll.”

The voice made its way past the fuzziness of sleep, stirring faint recognition in her. Who was calling her 'doll'?

“Blaine...?” Feral's voice was muzzy, as she tried to hold onto the dream she had been having. What had it been? She knew she had been happy in the dream, but the details were drifting away. She could feel that she was lying face-down on the bed. Next to her, the mattress dipped slightly with the addition of someone else's weight.

“You must have be really tired,” the voice was saying while a large hand gently rubbed circles on her shoulder. “You've been pushing yourself pretty hard recently, haven't you?”

It must be Blaine, she thought. No one else was in the apartment....

“Sorry I haven't spent a lot of time with you recently,” she mumbled, sleepily.

There was a soft chuckle from above her. “Shhh,” the voice whispered, a nose nuzzling at the skin just behind her ear, bringing a smile to Feral's face. “Time enough for that soon....” A light kiss was placed on the back of her neck, making her shiver slightly.

“Mmmm,” Feral hummed, squirming slightly to make herself more comfortable as she snuggled closer to the weight on the mattress. “What have you been up to?”

“Nothing you need to bother with, babe...”

Feral's eyes snapped open.

Babe.

Blaine never called her 'babe'. This wasn't Blaine...

She rolled away from the weight of the other body on the bed, coming off of the far side on her feet and staring.

CLU stared back, a small, almost gentle smile on his face.

“What do you want?” she asked, trying to sound defiant but sure she had only managed to sound nervous.

“Not much,” CLU told her. “I simply thought I would check and see how you were doing. As I said, you have been pushing yourself hard, recently. System records show you spending even more time in the training arena than before your being scheduled in the Games.” He stood up and took a few steps towards where Feral was standing.

“I have been watching you,” he continued, “and when you didn't join Rinzler on patrol this cycle I decided to come and check on you.”

Feral turned away from CLU, crossing her arms over her chest as she did so. “Well,” she said, still feeling off-balance, “now you know I'm fine; you can leave at any time...”

CLU let out another one of those soft laughs, coming closer until he was standing right behind her. Feral shifted, ready to move further away, when CLU wrapped his arms around her—pulling her back against him until Feral was tucked up with his body curving around hers.

“You know, the first time we spoke, I told you that had you would have been treated as an honored guest had I known about you sooner....” he told her.

“And look how well that has worked out for us both,” Feral replied, her voice both bitter with anger and a little breath-y from CLU's unexpected closeness.

“I know we have had problems,” CLU said, sounding slightly apologetic, “and I know that losing my temper kept me from making the best impression when you first got to know me; however, I really think that if we try to put all of that behind us, we could get along better, perhaps be friends.”

“What!?” Feral was stunned. “Oh yeah, I'll just forget about the last 9 cycles and everything will be fine.” She didn't ever try to keep the sarcasm out of her voice as she continued, “We'll be best friends in no time at all.”

CLU made a small, agreeable sound behind her. “If you and I had met under different circumstances.... We could be more than friends, if you were willing to be a little more accepting or understanding of how things are—here on the Grid.” His voice was a soft puff of air in her ear as he added, “Think about it; we've each seen the other's memories on their disc. I know the things that led you to the Grid; you know what led to me having to take control of the Grid. No dirty little secrets to come out later and ruin a relationship.”

Feral pulled away at that, moving out of the circle of CLU's arms and turning to face him.

“Are you serious?” she asked him, shocked amazement on her face as she stood less than a foot away and stared up at the system administrator. “What makes you think that there is any possiblity of me being willing to be in a relationship with you?” The idea that he had proposed was so unexpected, Feral couldn't decide how she should react.

CLU's blue eyes searched her hazel ones for a moment.

“Because,” he told her quietly, “I can offer you something that none of the Users you were with in your past ever did...absolute faithfulness.”

“Faithfulness...” Feral said, scoffing at his words. “I'm supposed to just trust you when you say that?”

“I have been faithful to a directive when even its creator failed to uphold it. Everything I do for the Grid, for this system and its programs, is because I am still faithful to what I promised to do all those cycles ago.”

CLU was leaning closer as he spoke, his right hand coming up to cradle her jaw as he whispered the next words against Feral's lips. “If I have done all of that for a casually given order...how much more faithful would I be to someone that I chose to give my word to? I would never betray you the way they did...”

She wasn't expecting the kiss; CLU's lips soft and gentle on hers, the faint scrape of his stubble against the skin of her chin and cheek. She didn't expect it to be warm.

Feral most definitely didn't expect to find herself kissing CLU back.

Almost ten years of little physical contract that didn't leave her tensed and prepared to need to defend herself, ten years of not having anyone touch her in such a fashion, ten years of surpressed wanting and need rose up and overwhelmed her and Feral found herself not just being kissed but kissing CLU back. It only lasted a picocycle or two and she was pulling back, pulling away; not certain if she was more surprised by CLU kissing her or the fact that she had kissed him back.

“No,” she shook her head as she spoke, “NO. I am not doing this again...I'm not going to be more accepting of things I believe are wrong. I'm not ever going to be understanding of that, CLU, and that means I'm not going to be in a relationship with you.”

Just...no.”

CLU stood there looking at her, his hand still raised where he had been cradling her cheek a moment ago.

“Your choice,” CLU said, his voice low. “You could have changed the world with me.” His hand dropped and he turned and left the room, pausing only as the door slid open to say, “It was your choice....”

* * *

 

It had happened so quickly that it caught her off-guard.

While she knew she was going to be taking place in the Games—CLU had left no doubt to that fact—Feral had thought for some reason CLU would require her to fight her way to the final round like the other combatants. Instead, she _was_ the final round.

There had been a flurry of signed advice from Rinzler as he walked her to be prepared for the Games by the armory sirens.

 _'I don't know what Game CLU has chosen for the final round...remember, you're not as strong as most programs—stay out of their reach so they can't grapple with you. Use whatever you have to distract your opponent...it doesn't matter what it is. If it's Disc Wars—use the eye-catching moves to distract them and the audience...then make it quick and clean. Be careful if it's lightcycles. You keep dismissing the stablizing dorsal code and that can make it easier for them to injure you. As a User, you have a hidden edge; you can push more power to your lightcycle, enabling you to go faster than any program...'_ Rinzler had looked away for a moment before turning back to her and signing, _'I'm sorry you are having to do this. Don't let it get you derezzed, though.'_ The door had then shut between them, sealing her in with the armory sirens and signalling for Rinzler to return to CLU's side as he had been ordered.

Then there was nothing left to do but wait until the other door opened to release her into the Games.

* * *

 

b)

On the other side of the Game cell, Feral could see the program pacing. The final Game for this cycle was apparently going to be Disc Wars.

Well, she had the training and skills she needed. She was going to make it through this; she was going to win the Game.

From high above the Game cell, CLU was addressing the assembled crowd that screamed for action.

“Programs! This is a memorable day and Game; the debut of a new Games champion!” CLU's voice boomed out over the arena. “I present to you...Feral!”

In her helmet, Feral heard CLU say, “Show me what you can do, Feral. Time to play the game...”

She looked up at where CLU stood at the window of his viewing box in the throne ship; giving him a defiant glare. In the back of her head she repeated some of Rinzler's advice to her.

_Use whatever you have to distract your opponent...it doesn't matter what it is...._

“Let's do this,” Feral muttered angrily to herself; and, still defiantly glaring at CLU, triggered her audio glitch on purpose.

 _'I don't want to maintain, insane, you always... '_ began the song as Feral activated her disc. On the other side of the cell, the pacing program that had won every match up to this point fell out of rhythm as he paced, turning a startled look her way as he did.

Feral took a few steps and launched herself and her disc into the air at the same time, starting the match.

* * *

 

Feral can hear CLU’s voice inside her helmet.

“Finish the game,” he tells her. “Derezz him.”

She shakes her head quietly and says, “No.”

Reaching behind her, she replaces her disc onto her disc dock and steps back; giving the other program room to climb to his feet.

The other program looks up at her fearfully from where he lies sprawled on the arena floor.

“Finish it!” she hears CLU order her again. Feral looks up at the command box and shakes her head.

“No,” she says again. “I’m not killing for you, CLU. He lost. I won. It’s enough.”

Feral can see the tight, angry lines of CLU’s body as he looks down at her from his throne ship. She cannot hear the order that he gives to Javis—who is standing behind CLU in his usually position—however, she is not surprised when BlackGuards come to bring her before CLU. They march her away, taking her to CLU’s command box, more guards bringing the losing program along behind her.

* * *

 

“Jarvis,” CLU says, promptly gaining the administration assistant program’s attention. “Send some sentries out into the audience. Have them bring me the five most harmless programs that they can find. Make certain that the programs are not injured—I don’t want there to be so much as a scratch on their renders—and bring them here _before_ Feral is brought in.” CLU paused for a moment before adding, “Also, send someone to bring her bit here.”

“At once, sir,” the administrative assistant program says, giving a slight bow as he does so. His gaze is curious behind his blue-tinted visor as he adds, “May I ask, sir, what you mean to do with them?”

From behind his black and gold-circuited helmet CLU replies, “No. You may not ask.” He waits on the dais by the window, watching the remainder of the games. At least that is not proving to be a disappointment to him.

Currently ignored by them both, Rinzler waited at attention; curious as to what CLU planned. He watched as Jarvis glanced nervously in his direction before leaving to do CLU's bidding. Whatever CLU had planned would not end well for Feral, he thought. CLU might appear calm, but he was furious.

* * *

 

CLU was still watching the games from the window when Feral was brought into the room. The guards halted a short distance from the dais CLU stood on, his back to them. Feral angrily yanked her arms from their grasp, then looked around. She had been here many times before. CLU enjoyed bringing her with him; as though he was showing off a well-trained pet. This time, however, things were different. This time, the well-trained pet had failed to follow commands.

Yes, this time things were different. For one thing, she had never seen so many programs here before. There were more guards than usual, and a small group of civilian programs that huddled together nervously on one side of the room. They were apparently being guarded by some of the extra guards in the room.

But why were the civilian programs here?

The small group of programs shifted where they stood, casting nervous glances at everything: CLU, the guards, Rinzler, even herself. Feral had the feeling that they knew as little about why they were here as she did.

On the other side of the room stood the program that Feral had fought in the arena. The program looked at her, plainly terrified, with a guard on either side of him.

Jarvis stepped up behind CLU.

“Sir, everything is as you ordered,” he said in a low voice to the system administrator. Jarvis handed CLU a touch pad. “The additional information you desired is here.”

CLU took the touch pad and turned to face the rest of the room. Feral noticed that he still had his helmet rezzed. CLU often did so when he was being watched by other members of the Grid. To see him wearing it now told her that although the arena was below them, the games were somehow continuing up here.

“You disappointed me, Feral,” CLU said, looking at her. “I though that glitch had been removed from your programming. I guess I need to re-enforce that protocol command. After all, I need you to follow orders _promptly_ , not wait to make a show out of it.”

 _What is CLU talking about?_ she wondered. _What show? I said I would not kill for him. What is going on?_

CLU continued to step forward until he was standing right in front of her. He leaned down slightly so that his helmet was near her ear.

“I will let you decide what happens now,” CLU told her, his voice so soft that only she could hear him. “You can derezz the program you fought—here, now, and at my command—or you can watch as I order the guards to derezz these five other programs that are here watching.”

Which will you chose?”

CLU leaned slightly back so that he could see Feral's face better. She turned her head towards him, an expression of horror on her face. Eyes wide and face pale, she looked at him.

“You wouldn't,” she whispered hoarsely. “CLU...you can't. They couldn't have done anything to deserve derezzing.”

Leaning closer again, CLU replied in an almost-whisper of his own. “I know. In fact, these programs have only come to see the Games...that's all. They are not threats; they have no combat coding at all.”

Your choice, Feral. The program from the Games, or them. Which one do you choose?”

Feral turned her gaze to the dark floor. She seemed to be focused on mentally tracing the almost neon lines of code in the room around her.

“Feral?” CLU asked, his voice still soft. “Which do you choose?” When no answer was forthcoming, “Do not make me choose for you...” he said, leaving the unspoken threat hanging in the air.

“Games,” she said, her voice tight, looking up at CLU with loathing in her eyes.

CLU nodded and stepped back onto the dais. She watched as—in the arena below—the large screens that listed competing programs and games winners suddenly showed CLU.

“Programs,” his voice rang out in both the room and across the arena below. “As you have seen, we now have a _second_ Games champion.”

Some of you may have been feeling a bit...cheated...by not seeing the final opponent derezzed upon losing.”

In the stands below, there was an answering roar from the audience as they shouted their displeasure.

“Well, apparently my new champion wanted me to see her finish the game from a much closer view.” CLU chuckled slightly, as though he were smiling under the darkness of his helmet. “However, I will not leave you unsatisfied. _YOU_ shall watch with me!”

CLU motioned to the guards watching the Games program, who now had a look of panic on his face as he realized what was about to happen. The guards quickly grabbed the program and shoved him into the center of the room. He stumbled to a halt near Feral, casting a fearful look in her direction. Feral looked over at the program with no expression on her face.

“Finish the Game, Feral,” came CLU's command.

She slowly reached back and took her disc off of her back. The program in front of her started to shake as he watched Feral activate her disc.

“No,” he pleaded with her. “Please....”

When she did not respond, the program decided to take a chance and bolted; trying to reach the door. At the back of the room, Rinzler tensed, alert. If the program reached the door, Rinzler would have to follow protocal and derezz the program himself.

There was no need for Rinzler to step in. Before the fleeing program had run half the distance to the door, a disc sliced though his back; derezzing the program in a shower of pixels. Rinzler looked up from the derezzed program to see Feral snatch her disc out of the air as it returned to her. She stared at him, expressionless, as she replaced her disc in its dock.

CLU's voice rand out over the arena. “There you have it, programs,” he said, his voice strong and proud. “The first victory for our new Games champion; my newest security program—Feral!”

He continued, his voice sounding slightly amused. “Don't worry! You will never again have to wait to see her finish the game!” With that said, the screens over the arena went back to displaying competor and combatant names and final scores. But now the screens listed 'Final champion: Feral'.

From the arena below came a dull roar as programs cheered or called to each other, commenting on the events of the Games as they began to rise and leave the arena.

Above the arena, in the command box on his throne ship, CLU had turned to the five civilian programs and was speaking to them. They looked nervously at one another as CLU spoke.

“Thank you for joining me for the final moments fo the game,” he told them. “I felt that it would be a special priviledge to give a few programs. You were the lucky ones chosen. I hope that you enjoyed the Games as much as I did, this time. Enjoy the rest of your microcycle. You can watch Feral again in upcoming games.”

He smiled at them as—with intense looks of relief on their faces—they were escorted from the room by the guards that had been surrounding them. One or two had already begun to talk about 'how exciting it had been' before the door slid shut behind them.

CLU then turned to Feral. She still stood in the middle of the room, looking numbly at the place where the fleeing program had derezzed. CLU stepped down from his dais and walked to where Feral stood, his hands clasped behind his back. Reaching her, he halted and retracted his helmet so she could see him. CLU had a slight smile on his face—what Feral privately thought of at times as 'CLU's 'default' expression'—as he reached out with one hand to grasp Feral's chin lightly and lift it until she was looking at him.

“Now, that was not such a hard decision to make, was it?” he asked, patronizingly. “All you need to do is remember that every time you fail to finish the game, I will have five of those very harmless, helpless programs derezzed. In fact, if you _ever_ fail to derezz a program when I give you the order, even if not during a game, I will have five such programs derezzed.” CLU's hand tightened painfully on Feral's chin.

“Is that clear, program?” he asked.

“Yes,” Feral said, her voice small. “I just want to go back to my quarters now.”

CLU stroked his thumb over her cheek before releasing it. “Not quite yet,” he said. “There is still the matter of you disobeying my order earlier. You understand why you will obey me in the future; however, I canot let what happened earlier go unpunished.”

“I derezzed the program,” she replied, dully.

“You did not follow my order when I gave it, now did you?” he asked, that faint smile still on his face.

“Rinzler,” CLU called, not looking away from Feral's face, “Hold her. Make certain that Feral does not go anywhere. She will be trying to free herself, soon.”

Rinzler walked over quickly from where he had been standing by the door at attention until he was standing behind Feral. He reached out and took her wrists in a strong grip behind her back. While it was not painful, Feral knew from previous experiences that she would not be able to break his hold on her. _Another beating to take_ , she thought to herself.

“Let's get this over with,” she told CLU wearily.

“I do not think you will be so eager for this to be over,” CLU told her.

“Jarvis,” he called to the assisting program. “Did they return with the item I told you to have brought here?”

“They are waiting right outside for your orders, sir,” Jarvis said, looking up from the notations on his tablet. “They have it with them now.”

“Have the guards bring it in,” CLU said.

At the sense of the guards entering the room, Feral looked up at CLU, wondering what he had planned.

“No, no, no, no, no,” came the scolding sounds of a grumpy, but familiar voice.

Feral whipped her head around at the sound of Spike's voice, craning to see past Rinzler's shoulder. As the guards came further into her view, she could see that they were holding Spike captive in a small force-field. The agitated bit bounced from side to side as it saw her.

“No,” Spike said, again.

Feral's eyes widened at the sight of Spike being held captive. Shocked, she looked back at CLU.

“He's just a bit,” she told CLU. “He can't hurt anybody; he's completely harmless...”

“As harmless as those programs I had brought in,” said CLU, interrupting her.

“Yes! Don't hurt him...I will follow orders,” Feral begged, tugging futilly as she tried unthinkingly to escape Rinzler's grip. “I swear it...please...”

CLU turned to one of the guards holding Spike captive. Looking at the glowing mesh that trapped the bit, he spoke.

“Derezz the bit. Slowly.”

Horrified, Feral watched as the guard reached for his disc and activated it. For the briefest moment, she could only think that she was in a bad dream...until the guard reached again for the force-field.

Shrieking, “NO!” at the top of her lungs, Feral lunged towards the guardsman, only to be brought up short by Rinzler's grip on her wrists. She lunged again at the now distracted guard, kicking at him as she did so. The sudden attack caught both the guard and Rinzler off-balance. The guardsman had to step to the side to avoid her attempted blows and Rinzler was forced to change his grip. Now Rinzler held Feral with one arm wrapped around her arms and waist, her wrists grasped tightly before her; and the other arm across her chest and shoulders.

Realizing that she could not stop the soldier from derezzing Spike, Feral did the only thing she could think of...

“Spike!” Feral screamed at the the bit franticly thrashing in the force-field, “Shut down! Now!”

Immediately, the bit shut down its functions and went still in the guard's grip. It made it easier for the guard to slowly press his activated disc into the bit, causing the bit to derezz.

The only sounds in the room were the soft, broken-glass-like tinkling of pixels derezzing, Rinzler's low, angry electronic growl, and the broken sobs that came from Feral as she sagged in Rinzler's arms, staring at the rapidly disappearing remains of Spike.

A moment later, footfalls were heard as CLU moved to stand in front of Feral. His hand reached out and stroked her cheek as he murmured to her.

“How long before you understand, Feral? You don't want to defy me.”

CLU raised his eyes from the sobbing User in front of him to Rinzler's featureless, black helmet.

“ _Now_ she can go back to her quarters,” CLU told him.

Rinzler gave a slight bow of his head in acknowledgement and, still holding Feral before him, led her stumbling away.

* * *

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N—no beta because all of my betas would have killed me after reading this.  
> Yes, Spike is.  
> No, he won't be re-rezzed.  
> Yes, you can hate me.  
> All torches, pitchforks, and comments should be placed in the little box at the bottom of the page. Push button to send.


End file.
